The Culture of Conscience
by Richard Banker
Summary: This is the sequel to Fruits of our Labours. At a time when political crises die down, past associations come back to haunt some Judge John Deed / Bad Girls characters and the limits of meaning well are exposed.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Bad Girls and Judge John Deed and all its characters are property of Shed Productions and GF Newman and BBC productions respectively. The author implies no ownership of these characters, and they are used in the stories without permission solely for entertainment and not for profit. The character of Kristine Thorne is based on a real person and she has given her consent for this. I am happy to accept constructive feedback openly as it will improve the quality of my writing."

SYNOPSIS

This is the sequel to Fruits of our Labours. At a time when political crises die down, past associations come back to haunt some Judge John Deed / Bad Girls characters and the limits of meaning well are exposed.

**Scene One **

Sir Ian's nerves were stretched drum tight as he waited to be called through the polished panelled mahogany door into the inner sanctum of the Cabinet Secretary, the highest ranking civil servant in the realm from whom all favours and dispensations flowed.. Normally, he had free access to this privileged position by virtue of his prestige as a high flier. He felt proud of himself, of his status near the very top of the hierarchy but now he felt deflated, his sense of substance mysteriously drained away from him.

It should not be this way, he reflected bitterly, as he sat on the carved mahogany bench outside the office of the head of the civil service. He knew that his conduct over the last year would be weighed in the balence and found wanting, as the ancient saying had it. He hadn't realised till now how merciless that saying was, that the scales of judgment had tipped away from him. Everything had been going for him as he ascended effortlessly up the ladder- until recently.

It was such infernal bad luck, he thought to might have wondered where he had gone wrong, but he knew better than that. He might at one time have considered that Deed was his nemesis, stalking him as he planned and schemed but he drew his net wider than that. It was all down to that gaggle of women whom he had sat behind, all watching a series of trials unfold. He could see them before his eyes so clearly as, after all, he had spent many hours sitting at the back of the visitor's gallery watching the trials disintegrate, one by one, into total farce and disorder. He could not forget the uncomfortable feel of the bench underneath him nor likewise could he forget the row of women in front and below him, There they were , that tall woman with short cropped hair whispering to the smaller woman with a short bobbed haircut and strong Scottish accent. It was curious that the strongest impression he had of this gaggle of women was from behind. In a way, he was relieved by this distancing effect as they had that same cool, mocking expression in their eyes on the occasions when he'd come across them face to face as well as the odd unseemly row.

He remembered when the fates had started to turn against him in a really big way when that dratted Wade woman had enveigled her way through the Court of Appeal hearing and the judges had succumbed to a spasm of soft-heartedness in concocting some nonsensical formula to erase the dreadful crime she'd committed. He even remembered her having the cheek to horn in on some dreadful row with Deed and she'd teamed up with him. Two of a kind they are, he fumed, no respect for authority, the inevitable demands that family upbringing demands of you. Here he is, trying his best to hold society together night and day and Deed and this gang of women just couldn't care less in letting everything fly apart, everything in a state of anarchic disorder. They're so blatent in their disregard for everything he's been brought upto hold look in their direction shows the contempt in their eyes for him ...

Suddenly way overhead, the distant sound of a jet aircraft gradually builds up and slices its way into his consciousness. The gradually sustained tearing sounds took his fevered mind in a leap of perception to a different time and place. There he was , waiting outside the front door of the Headmaster's Study. The same feeling swept through his nervous system. He knew very well that he would receive a detention from from his old headmaster at the least, if not a caning. It wasn't his fault, he rememnbered, sweating inside. All he had done was to have his attention diverted from doing his homework in on a sickening moment of horror, he'd suddenly realised it first thing in the morning and, in a blind panic, handed in his exercise book, without the precious English composition that he should have written. It didn't cross his mind to come out with a smoothly convincing story to talk his way out of trouble and his form teacher icily pointed out that the Head would be informed. Looking backwards, he blushed at his hopeless naivety when even then, he dimly sensed that others had the 'gift of the gab' as it was vulgarly phrased. He went into the room when what seemed like a dreadful bellow resonated through the door. Nervously, he ran his hands through his ruffled hair, trying to smooth it down into a presentable state. Shaking in his shoes, he let himself into the inner sanctum, which was barred to all pupils as a rule.

"Rochester, I've heard reasonable reports from your form teacher that you try hard though your work could be better. I was shocked, absolutely shocked to hear from your teacher of this latest scandalous episode."

The pause in the oration gave him just enough time for his word to shrivel his sense of self worth when the lecture carried on.

"Forgetting to do your homework is a serious enough matter but deliberately trying to pass off your homework as complete well, that's letting the side down."

It was that remark, the look of disappointment in the headmaster's eye, his tone of voice that really hit home. It was true. He had let the side down and he vowed there and then that he would never let the side down for the rest of his the relentless lecture on his shortcomings continued to be thrown in his face. All the while, he smiled upwards at the headmaster, leaning overhead, so big , tall and threatening. All the time, he shot sideways glances at the curved cane that was resting on the side. When the headmaster finally told him he was getting a detention, he so blessed the headmaster for his kindness even though his sense of well-being had been savaged. Somehow, he stumbled out of the door, vowing to do better next time.

That was the one and only time he ever received a detention and this spurred him on to be diligent and conscientious throughout his life even if he couldn't possess that careless brilliance of Deed, he could at least be hardworking and always take note of authority that hung over his head. And now he was going through that humiliation all over again...

"Sir Ian, Sir Ian," the dried up looking, severe elderly woman called repeatedly at the man whose eyes were staring wide open and through her. He didn't seem to be in the same world, the woman tut-tutted under her breath as she waited impatiently, a file under her arm.

Slowly, Sir Ian returned to the present. Of course he knew the woman well who was the doorkeeper of the Cabinet Secretary. No longer was he the short trousered schoolboy but the mature man in his blue Saville Row suit who had grown up to have a whole army of underlings under him. He was a knight of the realm, having been favoured for elevation and being picked out for favour amongst his were different now, surely. Nervously, he ran his forefinger round the inside of his white shirt, his tie feeling a little too tight and entered the room.

Sir Ian was ushered into a white, severe functional room where his chair was laid out for him and he was greeted by the Cabinet Secretary affably enough. They shook hands as always and he indicated the chair that was laid out for him as was Sir Ian's file, the indicator as to his future. Everything seemed as normal, wasn't it?

"I've taken a great interest in your career ever since you qualified under the fast track management scheme and I've ensured your regular advancement as a 'high flier.'

With expert timing, the Cabinet Secretary had racheted up the tension in Sir Ian, the more to cripple him morally. Sir Ian knew only too well as he had pulled the same trick on his own subordinates.

"Your problem is that you're simply failing to deliver on what's expected of you- no let me finish,' the authoritarian patrician tones commanded and beat down Sir Ian's very rare moment of protest against this harsh judgment. Sir Ian coloured, his blood pressure skyrocketed but in one fatal instant, said nothing and let that second expand outwards into minutes and then all eternity. "Your function is the smooth management of the judges on the one hand and the executive on the other hand. The fact of the matter is that you've failed to achieve your primary task and that is to achieve a harmonious relationship- in both directions. The LCD has been marginalised as a force both in government and in the wider community."

Sir Ian's nervous tension had reached fever pitch. He really did feel like an awkward schoolboy all over again. Did growing up and becoming a mature and responsible citizen mean nothing when all is said and done?

"Fortunately for you, we aren't as ruthless as outside industry and for this you must be grateful," the man said in stern tones even while the lifeline was being thrown out to him. Or was this an illusion and would he be left to drown while everyone looked on dispassionately? would his fall from grace be discussed with brief reminiscences before his public life would be discreetly packaged away, never to be mentioned again?

"It stands to reason that you will not qualify for the customary bonus," the Cabinet Secretary said in implacable tones, his razor edged gaze not quite meeting Sir Ian's nervous flickering vision. The words were like an arrow plunged into Sir Ian's vitals, not for the financial blow but what it symbolised. He was deprived of the chance of holding his head up high, alongside his colleagues in other departments. Word of this was sure to get out. He didn't know how rumours started but he knew that private and confidential affairs did leak out. After all, word had reached his ears of similar matters. He wouldn't have reached such an exalted level in the LCD if he hadn't developed such radar ears and heard similar stories. The trouble was that it was totally different being the subject of such stories and talking about such matters in amused and dispassionate terms. Beneath the refined and patrician matters, the waters in which he swam were as ruthless and dangerous as a swirling South American river, populated by cannibalistic brightly coloured Pirahna fish. .

"Let's put it this way," the relentless voice continued. "Your next appraisal year is something of a trial period. Either you pull your socks up or else you face compulsory transfer to DEFRA or the Immigration Department. It's your choice, Ian. After all, as the Americans say, it's a free country."

Sir Ian's mouth opened wide. For a moment, his ears refused to believe what his mind was telling him. When the full force of the shock announcement that he would be declared supernumary to the Lord Chancellor's Department in which he had invested so much of his life, the stress levels built up to unimaginable heights. For some reason, he had never expected anything as bad as this. What made it worse was that the Cabinet Secretary's body language was telling him that his presence was no longer required. His eye glanced at the sideboard where he was accustomed to partake of a glass of wine with his appraising officer. That too, would be denied him. One last instinct prompted him to exchange closing pleasantries and stumble out of the room.

The house Sir Ian lived in was a very neat and precisely maintained Victorian house with a Grandfather clock in the living room along with ancient furniture that had been handed down from his late and revered parents. A wide framed photograph on the wall revealed lines of fresh faced schoolboys in school blazers, white shirts and ties and a younger version of himself sitting cross-legged on the grass in the front row. He had dedicated himself unquestioningly to his upbringing all his life. This picture stared down at him as he reached for the octagonal mahogany drinks cabinet and poured himself a stiff whisky. He needed that drink to separate himself from his cares and responsibilities.

Muzzily, he reflected that the house had a chilly silent feel about it as morose thoughts whirled around his head. Everything around him felt tainted and bereft of any value and comfort. At one time, he felt that he wanted the monk-like isolation

It was only now that he started to miss the company of his separated wife, Francesca Rochester. He had married her as she was well-connected, well-bred and very charming. He had supposed that her charms were for him only to possess until he found out otherwise. It was only after being married a little while that he realised that her frivolous, pleasure seeking personality was at odds with his own serious nature and that his attempt to recreate his parents marriage in himself was going to be problematical. It was only when that bounder Deed showed up on the scene that matters went from bad to worse. Now he was well rid of her and he had supposed that he had found his true vocation, his true destiny.

In the past, he had undergone the odd brief spell of depression and had snapped out of it when the challenges of the outside world inspired and energised him once again. Of course, not even his junior confidante Lawrence James saw that side of his personality. The proverbial English stipp upper lip made sure that there was no outward expressions of these negative inner feelings. This time, as he listlessly examined his papers for the next day at work, he halfway suspected that this morose mood would take its time to shift. It wasn't something that he particularly relished nor, quite frankly, was he inclined to dwell on. He knew above all else that too much introspection wasn't particularly helpful for a man of his particular background..Wearily, he resumed his scrutiny of the important departmental paperwork.


	2. Chapter 2

**Scene Two**

By complete contrast, Nikki and Helen were lazing out in their back garden while the strong August sunlight streamed down on them, filtered by the leaves of the apple tree hanging overhead. Years ago, it had staked out its claim near the fence that separated them from their neighbour but, instead of seeing it as an invading force that would disturb the neatness of the garden, they let it grow with only a bit of discreet pruning. At this time of year it cast its shade on them both. They stared upwards at the dappled patterns of leaves, and illuminated by the sunshine it was a pleasurable experience. The two women lay side by side on recliners, wearing sunglasses and swimming costumes and mopping up the filtered sunshine. Both had that blissful, lazy sense of letting the day happen without a thought of plans and schedules. They had taken two weeks holiday just to laze around together.

A sequence of images flashed through Nikki's mind of the frenetic activity of the last year or so of her life, starting for her striving for the sort of responsible, caring job she was always cut out to walk into. Both women had immediately embarked on their struggles together to finally clear Nikki's name from the legal restrictions that had held her back. Hardly had they got that triumph under their belt when they had helped out Sally Anne in her struggles to get compensation and closure of her own torments. Next, they had been drawn into Karen's efforts to clear her name of the most ghastly, inappropriate charge imaginable, which had paved the way to Fenner being sent down. No sooner had the cell door clanged shut behind him when they had felt the full force of the establishment's attempt to exact revenge on them and finally, came the glorious news that they were going to be mothers. June 2002 had marked a turning point in Nikki and Helen's lives together as their life shifted gear. Jesus, so much had happened in so short a period of time but, best of all, they had built up a network of such close and enduring relationships, yes John Deed and Paul Williams included.

Nikki lay flat out on the sunbed, looking upwards through her dark glasses at the world around her. She had that blissful feeling that the universe that she shared with Helen was marvellously self contained. She could see that the garden she had tended earlier on in the year paralleled the hard work she and Helen had put in in terms of creating their pregnancy and now the flowers were in full bloom. The apples were now becoming ripe for the picking and surely that symbolized their life right now. Right now, she felt sleepy and lazy as the heat burned down on her. As the glare of the sun threatened to become too much for her, she turned her head sideways and saw Helen's bronzed face and her thick shades obscuring her eyes. Despite all that, she knew and felt the same sleepy affection emanate from her partner as she herself felt even if she hadn't been clued in by that affectionate smile spreading slowly and lazily across her face.

'Some say the world goes cray

It's summertime

I say I'm feeling lazy

Hammocks in mind

And I can't change a thing

He likes the sun..."

This snatch of a Tinita Tikeram song came into Nikki's mind as the music summed up her mood. The leisurely click and snap of the drums, the slieding base and the repetitive whiny guitar figure was framed by that husky, sultry knowing voice that sang like she spoke. It fitted her mood right now. More than ever, such a song made her luxuriate in simply letting go. It was that last thought that suddenly jabbed at her conscience to protest.

"Darling," Nikki started to say and then stopped her thought midway towards its articulation.

"There's something more on your mind than the love in your eyes," Helen replied in smoothly articulated tones. She knew her partner inside out. It wasn't the moments of exploring each other's psychies and their bodies that had sharpened her senses. It was the succession of externally arrived psychies that illuminated their naked natures that the constraints of institutional lives were at pains to camouflage.

"I err, all right Helen, it's that sometimes I get worried that I won't be the perfect mother," stumbled Nikki with a jerky delivery of what was clearly a deep-seated concern. In Helen's eyes, Nikki's occasional moments of bashfulness were sweetly endearing.

"Whereas?" Helen replied challengingly, looking her partner straight in her eye. Something prompted the dark haired woman to suddenly get to her feet. A bad move, she instantly thought as she felt dizzy and faint. Helen followed suit, knowing full well that wherever her partner was, so should she be.

"All right," confessed Nikki, the words surging out of her mouth after the internal mental block was swept away under pressure. "I know what a smartarse you are, babes. You'll be this blissful Madonna like figure glorying in the serenity expectant mothers go through. I'll be nervous and confused, pacing back and forth wondering just what a mother I'll be like. I mean, you'll be closer to the action than I'll be. From talking to Dad in the past, I really do sympathise what he went through. And guess what? After he'd done his duty in carrying on the family line, he gets that idiot of a brother. So he has a second shot at it and he ends up with the teenager from hell that I was."

Helen laughed openly at Nikki's rueful revisitation of her past. Her even teeth gleamed in the sunlight and somehow her laughter comforted the other , the depths of their communication was exemplified in each other's ability to accept laughter, if part directed at them. Each woman knew that it spoke the gentle truth.

"I just wonder how I'll cope. I'll worry that I won't be as I want to be."

There it was, out in the open at last, Helen thought. Feelings of tenderness overflowed, wanting to reassure her partner. From what she'd seen of the 'Mothercare' book in the local library, the biological mother was centre stage and her partner hardly got a look 's natural sense of justice revolted against such a one-sided view of life and as the stream of words cascaded outwards, so Nikki's self doubts spilled as to what kind of mother she'll till now, pursuing the IVF route had seemed like a combination of surmounting bureaucratic procedures as an abstraction without thought to the reality to come. Being pushed and prodded around in hospital was the concrete part of the deal which was simply the sort of things that happened in hospital, no more no less. Helen got the picture straightaway and folded her lover into her arms.

"Just relax 're talking as if you're on your own. You're not. If we or all our friends haven't got the answer, perhaps your parents will have it, or the judge or someone out there's an answer, we'll find it," Helen said into Nikki's ear with her peculiarly comforting and fiercely Scottish intonations. She felt Nikki nod her head as she clung weakly to her for support. For all that, Helen knew that this was only a temporary respite as it would take her partner a lot of time and soul searching to make those words feel real to her. Nikki might have partly accepted this intellectual proposition but this was only Nikki's first tentative steps in this direction. A journey awaited Nikki's presence which she was destined to walk.

"I'm thirsty as hell. Let's come inside and have something refreshing like a cup of tea for instance ," Helen vaguely urged, casting her mind around for something that would get them over that sudden sensation of dehydration. Helen slid her arm round her partner's waist to physically bond them together to their future. The feeling of closeness also helped draw them together compared to their time sundreaming while lying on their separate recliners, their thoughts in , each woman helped prop the other up as they felt languid and drained from their hours of sunbathing. They lurched their way up the garden path.

Finally, Helen steered them into the kitchen when they were plunged into sudden darkness. In reality, their kitchen was as bright and cheerful as they had made it but it took time for their vision to adjust from the glaring bleached out sunblasted world outside.

"Jesus, where are we?"exclaimed the softly cultured voice into Helen's ear. The mild inconsequence of their temporary disorientation had wider resonances for them

"Where we were made to be babes. In our kitchen, on a sunny afternoon with all our future opening out before us," Helen replied in crisp, confident tones as she felt for the fridge door and the bottle of orange squash.

"That's where I thought we were. I'm glad that one of us knows where we are,"the tall, dark-haired woman answered in humorous tones. She reached for the top drawer and fished out two glasses and slid them onto the table top where Helen sloshed in a fair measure from the bottle and diluted the mixture down.

"God, I needed that," sighed Nikki gratefully as she gulped the liquid down. It was only now that she realised how thirsty she'd been and how she had needed that relief.

"Somehow, orange squash reminds me of picnics on sunny back lawns when I was a kid. That was in my childhood days when my only problems were how much of a jealous bastard my brother was."

As Helen had finished rubbing her eyes, she saw a dreamy look float into Nikki's eyes as her partner relived her past. It made the smaller woman feel good as she could see how lightly and easily Nikki accepted herself and everything that had formed her personality.

"When I first knew you, sweetheart, I thought you were some kind of inonoclast. What's interesting is how you've mellowed over the last few years."

Those sharply phrased words grabbed Nikki's interest immediately. No matter her own only partly resolved feelings, Nikki knew she had to drop everything and run with this one. A smile curved her lips as she lighted on a flurry of ideas swirling before her eyes. Familiar feeling of excited confidence spread through her system and a rush of tenderness for that very remarkable woman whose green eyes smiled on her with satisfaction.

"You really are so amazing, darling. I've never met anyone who really gets me like you do..." the dark-haired woman said softly, the light of love in her eyes. At moments like this, the tender-hearted woman's feelings overflowed in all directions and Helen gladly surrendered to this emotional backwash.

"You tell me where you're heading and I'll be with you," the smaller woman said softly, looping her arm round Nikki's neck with one arm and knocking back her orange with the other. Her own thirst was raging and she desperately needed to be satisfied.

"I still feel that sense freshness of discovery just the same as when I was a kid. My best friend used to dare me go out the back door, set foot out into the snowdrifts and go where no woman had trodden before. As I got older, the same thing happened with new ideas," Nikki said dreamily. Despite the intense heat, somehow Nikki's vivid imagination was already taking flight as only she could.

"So just how would you let our child find out the world for herself? Just how comfortable are you with rules that might protect her from what's dangerous. Do you have any rules for yourself?" Helen pursued, her eyes fixing her lover's eyes with hers.

"Jesus, you know how to ask hard questions," Nikki said ruefully as her eyes slipped away to look for a packet of cigarettes and lighter in the needed to light up to help think her way through this. Normally, she couldn't keep her eyes off her lover's shapely curves

"I learned it from the ultimate mistress of hard questioning and self examination," Helen teased. "Even now, you probably don't quite know the way you rocked me to my foundations when I realised that you were something more than a 'great ally.'"

Nikki grinned in assent to this very sharp-minded Scot who had learned very quickly to pick up on the unsaid word. It amused Nikki that they were to embark on a deeply philosophical debate which oughtn't to coincide with their state of relative undress.

"I hold my hands up to every back handed compliment you've paid me but let's get back to business. I guess that talking to my parents these days has mellowed me out. The most important thing is that they accept me for who I am and I accept them. They're less uptight than they used to be and in those days, even if I secretly thought that they might occasionally be right, I never let it show. Teenage hormones have a lot to answer for, I guess."

"So where does that leave us?" Helen questioned.

"What always got my back up is the authority figure who preaches platitudes, rules and regulations with no thought of why things should be so. All my life, I've questioned why things should be...and I've been slapped down for it. Bodybag wasn't the first to try that on only by then I'd long since learned to be quick on the draw, verbally speaking. She was easy meat to make look stupid."

"Isn't the trouble that we're going to come up with something more positive than simply rejecting authority?", came that persistent voice, pressing Nikki to sharpen up on her thinking.

"The truth of the matter is that I'm not an anarchist," Nikki said slowly and thoughtfully, letting out a stream of cigarette smoke. "I'd want our child to be well grounded in values that she. or he, can relate to. I'd want the product of our love to grow up thinking that we live the way we talk, there is no dishonesty or hipocricy in our world. Hopefully, she or he won't grow up screwed up by the world but learn to survive the craziness out there. And of course, we should bring so much love to our child. That is so important. I can see now that my parents don't approve of everyything that we do but their love for us is unconditional. Let's face it, if we can heal the wounds of twenty years of non communication and emotional upset, there's hope in the unlikeliest of least that's the theory of it. How it'll work out in practice is anyone's guess," finished Nikki on a shaky note.

"You're making perfect sense, darling. I needed to hear it come from your lips. On my own, I'd come up with more questions than answers."

"You mean you've had your doubts? I thought I was the nervous one," questioned Nikki, in that open mouthed way of hers that Helen found endearing. Suddenly, the here and now came back to the smaller woman as desires suddenly started flooding through her system.

"Of courseI have, darling. Being pregnant doesn't happen to me every day. Of course I've been worried. Come with me and we'll lie down together."

"But...,"interjected Nikki, a lurking doubt rising straight up from her unconscious. Helen placed her forefinger across the taller woman's lips.

"Just relax, sweetheart. I've done a little research on this topic.I know what we're doing. It's perfectly safe."

That sultry tone had its tonic effect on the taller woman together with the light touch of ironic reversal. It banished the slight reservation in Nikki's mind as to their sex life while Helen was pregnant. This part of her present was one she could deal with so easily. She felt both loving and confident as Helen took her gently by the hand and led them to their bedroom.

As the two women lay down together, their breathing returning to normal, Nikki felt blissfully content that their sharply changing reality could be dealt with. She knew that her lover's belly would expand with the coming of time. A wave of protective emotion suffused her system as she knew that she would be incredibly protective of her woman and any recurring doubts could be dealt with. It wouldn't take that much time to pass for her to live up to her big words. Somehow those cockeyed words made sense, certainly more so than her fears which had been running round and round in circles like a mouse on a turnstyle at the back of her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Scene Three **

In another part of London, life was more conjectural. What remained unspoken between John and Jo was whether or when they would move in together and if so where to. They were both haunted by far too many painful memories of hurt feelings, bitter accusations, feelings of guilt over infidelities and, in general, too much emotional baggage. The current bright and breezy relationship theory that floated around the chattering classes was to put bad things behind them, make a fresh start and make a conscious effort to change the way you behave. Both John and Jo considered it wasn't as easy as all that.

Jo Mills knew that she had become far too used to her own space since her husband had died many years ago when her sons were little. She had always lived in her neat brick built terraced house except for the brief spell when she had let her house and had worked up North. Surprisingly, her erratic relationship over the years with John had never included much normal interactions that took place between couples no matter their closeness of attitudes on legal matters. On personal matters, they were as much inclined to clash as to agree with each again, Jo could never forget that John was once her pupilmaster for the period he was teaching at Law School in Holborn and even at her exalted position of barrister, still felt herself in John's shadow.

During her on / off affair with John, she had learnt by bitter experience not to let him fully into her life even if she did the same with her body. That was her choice and one that she had learned to regret time and time again. It would take time to wear down those deep seated anxieties and both of them knew it.

The easy element of the decision to resolve was that both ruled out the possibility for both of them living in the digs. Although Monty Everard and his wife Vera nominally lived there together, the establishment exuded batcherhood from every pore.

After the night that John had stayed over, both of them felt that they were getting there after all these years but they had a long way to go and shouldn't rush things. Both of them knew that they had been through this movie before. Just at the point when they had felt that they were starting to get somewhere, along came some upset that ruptured what they'd started to build up. Not least of such occasions was when John had slept with the female therapist who he'd engaged to work through why he couldn't commit himself to Jo Mills full time. Even if forgiveness for everything that had gone wrong between them could be achieved, they both knew that forgetting was quite a different matter.

Helen knew that Nikki needed to work further on her feelings of uncertainty and that she was searching for reassurance elsewhere. Her restless manner told Hrelen everything she wanted to know and finally, the smaller woman broached the topic directly.

"You surely don't think I'd expect that one evening's conversation has dealt with all your nervousness about us having a baby together."

There it was, Helen's most searching gaze was penetrating her very being. Jesus, Nikki thought to herself, I was the one who long ago got her to open up and let it all hang peered out beneath the shade of her long lashes and finally latched onto that reassuring smile on her face. Suddenly, she exhaled all the pent-up tension within her and the words formulated themselves as she'd always trusted herself to do so.

"Darling, you did your very best to reassure me but I just think I need some external input, someone whose life experiences aren't bound up with ours."

"You mean John. You are assuming that talking to him won't wake up biological paternal feelings that he might have been suppressing?"

Helen's warning words hit Nikki like a hammer blow. The thought had never crossed her mind. She thought over Helen's words with extreme care.

"He's given us his , he's got Charlie and I don't think that he'd want to get back into a phase of his life when he's only now just settling down with wants his freedom too much."

Nikki's stumbling words drew a broad smile from her partner. Somehow, she's managed to reassure her partner's own worries. Most of all, they knew that the judge's word was sacrosanct, something that could be taken to the highest bank or court in the land.

"You've convinced me. I was only acting as devil's advocate. OK,you go and have a good talk with John. Let's face it, for all our circle of friends, we're rather short of parent models," Helen replied in her sprightliest tones.

"You're sure you don't mind, all, it's your baby as well."?" Nikki called back anxiously."

"You forget that the biological clock has started ticking. Later on, I'm sure I'll need all the hand-holding that you can give me but that's another day. Besides, I've got a date with clearing out the spare room and slapping a lick of paint on the walls for our baby. This is me having a creative splurge. You go and talk to John. I'm sure he'll be only too willing to advise."

John was settling down to a comfortable evening in when his mobile bleeped and to his surprise, an obviously nervous Nikki Wade was seeking his advice. He used all the power of conviction in his voice to put his friend at her ease, and made the necessary arrangements with the butler who still couldn't get it into his head that an attractive female guest for John Deed was entirely innocent.

"Ah, Nikki, take a seat and join us for dinner. They do an excellent vegetarian meal."

Nikki hadn't been expecting this hospitality but her natural reticence was overcome by the two judges' natural warmth of manner as John waved her in. Monty had obviously remembered the occasion when they had done some serious drinking together so she politely took her seat at the long oak table, spread with the formal white whole situation was most curiously reminiscent of when she and her family used to visit various aunts and uncles scattered around the Home Counties and she encountered these very male, pipe-smoking uncles. This time around, she felt enormously comfortable round their idiosyncracies as, above all else, she wasn't the little child as she was then.

She ate the surprisingly tasty meal and engaged in polite chit chat until John politely introduced the reason for her visit. Nikki looked sideways at Monty as she wasn't certain just how liberal his views were in this delicate area. Monty picked up his friend's train of thought and knew that he was being called for to offer his deliberations.

"You must know how old fashioned I am, Nikki, and it is quite beyond me just how two women can have a baby together but that's a very minor detail in the great scheme of things. You don't need our approval but I can see you and Helen making really excellent parents," he pronounced.

"Why thank you," Nikki said, colouring slightly at the very welcome ego boost when she needed it most. "I'm glad we have your confidence. It's more than I feel right now," confessed Nikki nervously.

"Both of us might be able to help you in terms of what we've done right but also what we've both done wrong," Monty said with a meaning look which made Nikki warm to these two very kindly older men. "You could learn from our mistakes. You might not know but I have a son who lives abroad in Africa. I don't see him very much except when he comes to tap me for money though I don't want to bore you with my troubles."

For the first time, Nikki was permitted a background peek behind the man's gruff exterior and was saddened by the sense of desolation. She was also flattered that he bestowed this confidence on her. She was beginning to learn that this man lived a world away from her friends at Chix who would easily share their misfortunes so that some sororial bonding would make them feel better. She sensed that this man bore misfortunes on his own except for sharing them with John in rare moments of intimacy.

"You can if you want to but you don't have to," Nikki replied in her tenderest, softest tone of voice.

"Anyway, back to business. You must understand that those were different times when John and I became fathers. It was taken for granted that our priorities were advancing our careers, marrying well, having a nice house and producing offspring were expected of us apart from mending the odd fuse and being responsible for the family car. I can remember being relegated to the sidelines while a gaggle of female relatives, mainly hers, did all the fussing and flapping around. Vera hired a nanny who did the real hard work and looking back on it, this was a first class way of making sure I never bonded with my son. I don't suppose any of this is the slightest use, Nikki. Perhaps John with his more progressive outlook might be of more assistance," Monty concluded, his voice tailing off as he sensed that his experiences were a mile away from what his friend would be going through.

"I get the feeling that my dad went through all that," Nikki said reflectively, feeling this older man's sense of alienation.

"You were of course, the perfect father,"joked Monty. "It explains why Charlie lived most of her life with you."

"I know I have that reputation but I remember very well when George told me the news. My first thought was 'My God, what have I done?' I was confident enough in my sense of application to become a successful barrister but I never thought I'd had the sense of responsibility to become a solid family man. I was scared to death that this strange creature would come into my world and dominate my life. I also had George to contend with as she blamed me for conspiring to set back her career with sneaky underhand means...George was different to as she was intensely ambitious and didn't know what she'd let herself in for.I know she's different now and, now she's with Alice, a lot of her defences have come down and she's a far nicer woman than she used to be."

"So what happened when you saw Charlie for the first time?" Nikki gently asked, very touched by John's generosity of spirit to George.

"I can't describe the feeling I had when I saw that tiny scrap of humanity with her big blue eyes and tiny fingers.I felt incredibly protective of her from the word go though it hasn't stopped her turning my hair grey from the scrapes she's got into with her Animal Liberation activities. The point I'm getting at is that I suspect that bonding doesn't take place due to some mystical process between mother and child that leaves the parent who doesn't give birth left on the doesn't have to be that way, I assure you."

Nikki saw the dreamy look on John's face as he was reliving his past, not so much recounting it. His discourse was right on the beam as always.

"Thank you John," Nikki said a little breathlessly, overwhelmed by the force of the liberating ideas that swept through her. "You're either very lucky or talented or both," Her admiration for John increased as the man unveiled a talent she hadn't suspected in him.

"I think it was luck. If I have a gift, I certainly don't know where it came from," chuckled John self-deprecatingly. "You ought to know that George had problems in bonding with Charlie right from the very beginning. I'm not breaking any confidences as George would be the first to admit her feelings but it is only now that a sense of sympathy and understanding is building up between them. I'm glad for it as the distance between them always distressed me, the way she used to call George the 'ice maiden.' She may have come over that way as George never used to show her feelings and was once the convenient hired legal gun of the establishment. You didn't know her as she used to be or did you?"

"I remember," Nikki replied as her memory served her well. "The first time I saw George right after my reappeal and I got involved with George, that Haughton guy and Sir Ian when they were slagging you off. I remember crossing swords with her. She did come across as hard and unfeeling and, worst of all, definitely on the wrong side. Somehow, somewhere along the line she ended up representing Sally Anne Howe and crossing over the line in more ways than one."

Both John and Monty grinned at Nikki's cryptic allusion and warmed to the thought that, between them, their remarkable friend was becoming more relaxed about the idea of being a parent. They knew that, while it was obvious that Nikki would make a good parent, her profound misgivings would take a lot of working through. In turn, Nikki realised that, unknown to herself, she'd internalised a lot of ideas that, once brought out into the light of day, needed to be challenged and tested like any other they sat at the dining table, sunlight shone brightly through the windows of the digs. The three of them had that feeling of easy intimacy when time was suspended. They were after all, living lives in past and present, drawing the first lines in sketching out the problematic future.

In the meantime, Helen was having a whale of a 'd changed into loose dungarees and an old sweatshirt and fastened a scarf round her hair. She'd chucked out into the large dustbin a lot of superfluous junk which they'd stashed in a moment of indecision. Once she'd reduced the contents of the spare room to the minimum, she cleaned and washed down the walls. Next she lugged out the paintpots and brushes and set to work in painting the room in bold, bright colours with childlike shapes and splodges. She was happy enough working away as this was going to be her creation. She wasn't worried what Nikki might think when she'd finally returned from her visit to John as her partner would instantly see this as a demonstration of positivity and be duly inspired.


	4. Chapter 4

**Scene Four**

George was very well aware of the powerful nurturing instincts of her partner. She admired the way that, day in day out, Alice would drive into the grim decaying council estates and immerse herself in the hopeless social problems that came with poverty and social deprivation. She knew how to maintain that companionable silence when Alice rattled away on her PC the details of records that Alice was obliged to keep. She was tolerant of the occasions when Alice rceived phone calls in the evening that caused intense discussions. In that way, she gradually learned to absorb the feel of the human tragedies that were the bread and butter of Alice's daytime did not make for comfortable listening, and it aroused ill-defined feelings of guilt that she had problems in dealing with.

Finally, the way that Alice looked away into the distance through the dining room windows one evening prompted George to speak the thoughts that had been going round in her head.

"So, in comparison with the lives that you enter, I really have a privileged and protected upbringing." she said out of nowhere from their companionable silence. As if for the first time in her life, she took in the painting above the fireplace, the carved mahogany table and dining room chairs that her father had given dark-haired woman turned her face to look quizzickly back at her partner and away from her own thoughts. She was mentally listing fors and against why the two children whose welfare most concerned her should be taken into care.

"Believe me darling, anyone who slaves away in a dead end job, pays the bills,provides for their partner and children and imparts some sense of self belief that they'll struggle through come what may could be said to be privileged," Alice said in bleak tones.

"I don't know whether or not to be reassured by your words," George said in artificial tones that clearly betrayed her sense of uncertainty to her partner.

"Believe me, you have nothing to feel guilty about," Alice replied, her face brightening. She turned round to kiss George on her lips and draped her arms round the blond haired woman's shoulders. "Why do you think I was attracted to you in the first place?"

"Tell me darling. Don't worry about the dangers of boring me to death," George replied, her voice arching up and down the scale in her most seductive fashion. Her appearance of narcissism was at least,three quarters pretence and amusing affectation.

"I have an unashamed weakness for out and out posh and you are, and you know it, totally gorgeous. When I got to know you, I really found someone incredible I could fall in love with and I'm always intrigued by your hidden depths. That blows my street credibility out of the water and I don't give a shit," she finished in defiant tones.

"Street credibility," mused George as she gently stroked her lover's long black hair as it flowed down her back."As soon as I first heard that expression, I was immediately suspicious. I never felt judged by it in any way, not then and not even now when I have become more liberal in my views."

"It's what you do with your life that matters, George," Alice said, gently ruffling her lover's hair."Of course you were born into the Channing family and everything that goes with it. You single-mindedly pursued your career and your family. I know very well that you effectively worked for the government and made a lot of money out of it but I know that you pick cases now because they are morally right."

"I suppose I do pay my share of moral dues and demands these days. The legal aid system eventually pays my bills while I make my money out of civil cases. It's what I'm good at and I'd hate to limit myself to crusading full time,"George replied in deliberate tones, flashing a quick smile on her knew very well how warm-hearted her lover was but became hideously embarrassed if anyone ascribed sainthood to her.

"I know more than anything else that words can be cheap but actions cannot never profess yourself to be more than who you are."

George smiled graciously at the satisfactorily oblique yet very profound compliment. Alice felt privileged to get the full force of her lover's sincerity.

"I'll treasure your words always. While we're talking about ourselves and the world around us, There's something that's always intrigued me and that is the way you feel so much for the unfortunates you come across in your life. I know that I'm starting from a position of complete ignorance but do you find that the families you deal with are that way because it's what and where they were born into? Some of your stories sound fearfully bleak and depressing but I suppose that it reminds me there's another world out there. I admire your sense of persevereance and wonder how you have the inspiration to carry on. In my field, I have at an even chance in getting a fair deal for my client. "

"I guess I'm a hopeless romantic," Alice said at last after slowly mulling over the delicately implied question. As she had spent all her life doing the caring in on guise or another, this was the first time she'd been asked this question. The obviously needy people wanted her as Lady Bountiful and, in her relationships, other people's problems had predominated. Finally, she started off across the verbal highwire, slowly feeling her way. "I see the good in all people who are struggling even if they are acting in dysfunctional ways and even if they act selfishly and that lower level of existence, it happens.I want to nurture them, make them better.I think I have the ability to do that,"

"Has that ever intruded into your personal life?" George asked gently. She knew the answer already, remembering Alice talking of her ex-lover, Becky.

Alice turned white with shock. It crossed her mind that a partner whose stock in trade was nosing out the truth would be one from whom secrets couldn't be kept. It made her feel uncomfortable and sweaty inside.

"I know what you're getting at. If you must know, Becky had attached herself as a friend of one of my clients. She was the sparkly, lively one while her friend was a chronic depressive single parent and she kept the children entertained. I really was impressed and charmed by her and thought we had something in common and that's how come I got drawn into her world. I really cared for her and that was half the trouble. It was only when we started dating that I saw the other side of her and realised she had a clinical bipolar condition. She would be so great if only she could be helped with her condition and I was the one to do got to be an addiction. Anyway, I'm well over her and away from her,"Alice said jerkily looking away from George. "I won't make that same mistake again."

"Darling, I'm really sorry. I did have Becky at the back of my mind when I asked you that question and made the foolish mistake of thinking that it happened a long time ago. I didn't realise that it still hurts you."

"Sometimes, an addiction can be harder to break than you think,"whispered Alice into George's neck as the two women wound themselves tightly round each other.

Alice was in a state of indecision while the busy sounds of her office were all around her but she was isolated into a different zone. The letter that had been pushed through her letter box was clutched in her hand

"Alice darling,

I beg you on my bended knees to come over and see me as I'm totally desolate and distraught. Everything in my life is going wrong and only you know how to heal me, to point me on the right path. Only you and I know how much we have in common, how much we shared. I long for the sound of your sweet voice, your kind and generous nature.

You might ask why I've written to you after all this time and the simple truth is that false pride has kept me apart but now I know better. You know now what we mean to each other.

You and I are destined to be together. Please phone me up. I am dying to hear from you, if only for five seconds.

Yours forever

Becky"

She knew what she must do. After all, it was only a quick visit on her way home after her last official client. She was drawn to her destiny.

It was ten thirty at night and George's living room was steeped in gloom except for a sidelight which cast a circular glow as far as the writing desk in the corner of the room. Upon its folded out flap was a ripped open envelope and a crumpled letter which George had lighted on when she had come home from work. Finally, George heard the key turn in the lock and hesitant footsteps approach her.

"Don't tell me, Alice. I know where you've been," called out a very acid voice from out of the gloom. Suddenly, the main lights were switched on with a blinding glare and there was a very discomforted Alice trapped there under George's steely gaze. The first few buttons of her shirt were unbuttoned and her hair was dishevelled. George felt sick to the pit of her stomach.

"George darling, I must explain myself. I know it looks bad but..."

"So you were just out on a last minute call and would be a bit late. How very inconvenienced you must have been to You'd better stick in an overtime claim from your employer."

"All right, it was Becky. I must have been mad to call round. Please let me explain. It'll never happen again."

"I don't want to hear the sordid details," shouted George, as ancient nightmares of past infidelities committed against her came tearing through her psyche, ripping it apart. "I want time and space to work out where the hell I am. You can't even begin to know that."

Alice burst into tears but George appeared to have hardened her heart, if only to preserve her from further hurt. She could imagine the details all too easily.

"There's an overcooked casserole in the oven," George said in a lower tone of voice which was surly and ungracious. It suggested the minimum amount of care and a disinclination to see her culinary work wasted. The taste of it did not make Alice feel better in the way it normally did. Her stomach felt so churned up that she could barely swallow it.

That night as they lay in bed together, George turned her shoulder away from Alice so that none of her body rested against the dark-haired woman. There was no goodnight kiss either. It felt as if there was a chasm between them a mile deep and a mile wide that couldn't be crossed. Alice felt desolate that after coming back to the imagined safety and security of her present world, things were no better than before.

There was a timid knock on the door that neither Helen nor Nikki could place in the evening of their first Monday back at work. Even on his initially nervous first visit , John used to sound louder than that. Two sets of raised eyebrows caused Nikki to take long strides to the front door and, sweeping open the heavy front door, an obviously miserable Alice stumbled in. Her appearance shocked them as Alice had unkempt hair and she'd obviously been crying recently. George and Alice had been such a solid twosome for so long.

"Jesus, what's happened?" exclaimed Nikki in alarm, taking Alice into her made their way through to the living room where Helen's face clouded with immediately poured a third cup of tea from the pot and smiled faintly to see her resort to the time honoured Brit solution for trials and tribulations. Alice drank greedily at the brown lukewarm mixture and lay back in the armchair with her eyes closed for a few minutes. It was the first time she felt safe and secure for a frighteningly long twenty-four hours. It was only after a little while that she brushed her hair briefly and so Helen judged it the right time to talk.

"You don't have to tell us what on earth has happened but it might help. We're your friends, after all."

These kind words let loose a flood of tears while Helen put her arm round their friend's shoulders. Nikki sat there aghast. After all, it was Alice who gave soothing, comforting , level-headed advice at , she talked and both her friends rapidly assimilated what was confessed to was all too believable and it was obvious how Alice was perilously placed.

"You'll forgive me Alice if I'm straight with you on this," began Nikki, waiting for the response. It came immediately.

"Whatever you say will be fine. I need something, someone to ground me to reality. If I've messed up, I've messed up."

"Bigtime," answered Helen, stealing one of Nikki's favourite expressions from under her very nose. "I remember realising very late in the day, that Sean was a total control freak but who could press all the right buttons to make me feel that I was the villain of the 's what happened when I broke up with 's no different except from dominating in a different way, the helpless waif and stray and then screaming a guilt trip at you."

"I feel totally stupid. I should have known better but I should have been stronger with her. Hell, I don't know what to feel anymore," Alice said in a state of rambling incoherence. All manner of conflicting emotions were exploding inside of her. She couldn't make sense of her situation for the life of her."

."Alice, look in my eyes and listen," Nikki said in firm but sympathetic tones, placing finger and thumb either side of her friend's chin to ensure eye contact. She was leaving nothing to chance. "There are some people around that have the knack of hitting your vulnerabilities. If you really think that you're not emotionally safe with them within five miles of you, well that's the way it has to be. It's no dishonour admitting to that."

"If I had a toss up between an exciting demon lover and a woman who truly respects me, who loved me for who I am, someone I can rely on, the second comes first by a million miles. There's nothing that eats up relationships alive than lack of trust,"Helen pronounced very gently, articulating every word clearly.

"Helen makes messing around in my slippers, cup of tea on the side sound really attractive,"commented Nikki drily which raised a faint smile from Alice for the first time for a long time. "Seriously enough, it means that our relationship is for real, and we're both here for the long haul. What you describe sounds like a dangerous illusion, believe me."

Just as Alice was starting to feel less desolate and cold inside, Helen's mobile started bleeping. Helen saw the number, smiled to herself and waited for the roll of the dice to see what manifestation of their friend would make herself present in Helen's ear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Scene Five **

"George. How lovely it is to hear from you,"exclaimed Helen with unfeigned pleasure. "We don't see enough of you- or Alice for that matter."

"It's about Alice that I wanted to talk to you about. We've had a bit of a bust-up a few days ago and she hasn't come home. I'm seriously worried about her."

Helen opened her mouth but the words didn't come out. She was in a real dilemma as to whether to lie to George and pretend that Alice wasn't sitting in her armchair as Alice looked obviously scared or to tell the truth and force Alice's hand. Both had advantages and disadvantages.

"You've got to talk to her. You know you have to, sooner or later," Nikki said, keeping her voice low so that George's sharp hearing couldn't pick out. She could pick out her partner's train of thought from long practice.

"All right Helen. Tell her I'm here."

"By a strange coincidence, Alice has fetched up here. You know that our flat is a natural drop in point for waifs and strays, John included."

On the other end of the phone, George breathed a deep sigh of relief. She knew that she'd been beastly to Alice over the last couple of days and the rage in her system was taking a few days to subside. She knew above all else that she had to confront whatever may or may not have been going on. The sneaking suspicion was growing inside her that Alice was about to tell her what happened only she'd cut her off short. She was beginning to suspect that she'd reacted the same way to her as she had to John years ago when he came out with yet another smooth story to cover up his infidelities. Nevertheless, she didn't want to let her guard down by more than a fraction as whatever had happened had incriminated Alice to some extent or why else should she come in in such a state and so late an hour. Gritting her teeth, she made her decision.

"All right. I know that Alice is in the safest possible hands. Can you ask her if she's OK if I come over and meet her at your place?"

"All right," called out Alice nervously at Helen as Nikki directed one of her sharp looks at her. Both judged independently not to ask Alice if she wanted to talk to George on the phone. Both knew how formidable George was and thought they'd be pushing their luck for something that wasn't strictly necessary.

"By all means, George. We'll take care of everything till you come," Helen answered, making her voice sound as firm and reassuring as possible as she could.

"I know you both will," George replied, her natural warmth of mannr flowing out on the airwaves. If there was anything she felt certain of that moment, it was that cast-iron promise. She knew that her friends would be invaluable. "Right then, I'll be over straightaway."

"Take care," Helen said affectionately, not pressing George further as to her intentions when she arrived. Whatever it was, she and Nikki could deal with it.

"What did George say about me?" Alice said breathlessly as soon as Helen clicked the phone off. "Come on, you've got to tell me, either good or bad. I want to hear it."

"As a matter of fact, she didn't say anything and you can't expect her to," Helen said in gentle but firm tones. "You forget, she's completely in the dark about what happened. The real danger she faces is an overactive imagination and sod all to go on."

"George is a barrister," weighed in Nikki in persuasive tones when she spotted the gap left in Helen's reasonings. "She only draws conclusions when she amasses all the facts."

"What about the letter she saw? That's pretty incriminating," Alice said in jerky tones, hyperventilation at the thought of what George must be thinking.

"Until George comes, you must learn to relax, place yourself in our hands," Helen's soothing tones. "We'll look after you."

Alice nodded her head, unable to speak. She hadn't felt as helpless and frightened for a long time. She was a little child again which all her years of professional work and her extra-curricular work with lovers and friends had denied to herself. She accepted another cup of tea from her friends which was unusual for her, being a hardened black coffee drinker.

Finally, there was a smart rap on the door and Alice jumped in her skin. Helen held her hand protectively, fixing Alice's eyes with hers while Nikki headed for the door. The moments hung agonisingly in suspension.

Finally, Alice became aware of George's presence from the perfume that had entered the room. She dared not look up. Unknown to her, George was placed in an acute dilemma. What on earth was she to say to the woman who might be her lover or alternatively her betrayer. It was unusual for her to be so indecisive.

"Hi Alice," George said in formal tones which ludicrously understated the confusion of her feelings. "You might have let me know where you'd gone. I've been a bit worried about you."

"Helen and Nikki have been looking after me," said Alice in a small voice, not daring to look upwards at the familiar voice. "I'm sorry."

"I think we need to talk," George finally said after taking in a deep breath of air and biting the bullet. Whatever the truth was, she must hear it and there was no time like the present. "Is there somewhere for me to sit down. I hardly think that this is an occasion to stand on ceremony."

"I'll get one," Nikki instantly replied, giving full marks to George for the mature way she was reacting. George took her place on the chair, directly facing Alice while Nikki and Helen occupied the sofa. The two women looked uncertainly at each other, wondering who should make the first move and what should be said. Fortunately, George intercepted the looks and stepped up to the mark, speaking firmly and clearly.

"Alice, I've been thinking over what I've said to you. You need to explain what happened that night.I realise that I know nothing and that I've subjected you to some of the verbal GBH that John was on the receiving end of."

"That's not unreasonable," Nikki intervened in her softest tones. She couldn't make eye contact so she prayed for the power of the spoken word. It had its effect as Alice finally ran her tongue along her lower lip and looked upwards for the first time since George had entered the room. She knew at last that George really wanted to know and her mind wouldn't be set at rest until she knew what had happened. It was only now that she was starting to make sense of the craziness of the last few days, having talked it over to her friends.

"All right, I'll tell you all exactly what happened," Alice said, clearly agitated in manner to George's sharp eye.

"You want us to go?" offered Nikki, guessing that the crowd scene might be putting pressure on their friend, three pairs of eyes being turned in judgment on her.

"Please stay, both of you. Both of you keep me grounded right now. It's myself that I'm afraid of," came the definite reply, with an undertone of blind was clear to her and Helen that Alice was more afraid of being alone with George than the reverse.

"I got the letter a couple of days ago when I was working at home for the morning. God knows how it happened that both of us weren't out. I opened the letter as you see it and, fool that I am, I didn't either rip it up or show it to George, don't ask me why. It was exactly as if I were an alcoholic and I'd drunk orange juice that was spiked. I had this curiosity itching at me to wonder what Becky had done with her life. I was looking back on the past with rose tinted spectacles and my memory cut out all the crap she'd laid on me. You might almost say that I had an overdose of compassion for her- strictly as a friend. It all sounds a load of rubbish, I know," Alice tailed off, her face twisting with embarrassment. She smiled gratefully at Nikki who placed a glass of orange in her hand and swallowed a mouthful.

"Wait a minute, you don't think she was stalking you?" Helen gently interposed. She'd been dying to ask that question but held back until Alice herself chose when to pause.

"Jesus, I never thought of that,"Alice replied, her mind awakening to the chance to see things for herself. "Thinking about it, I think you're right. God what a fool I've been."

"It's happened to others. Fenner did that to Karen, remember. Anyway, we're interrupting."

"You can see now why I jumped a mile when you mentioned Becky's name the other day. Once I'd started not being open with you, I carried on perpetuating the same mistake, especially as we were talking about my persona of being Ms Aware Social Worker. It's a lame reason for not confessing all but my subconscious didn't want me looking stupid to myself..."

"We've all been there before sometime," Nikki added, Alice kept looking low, darting odd glances at George whose silence was making her feel nervous. She was sitting on a dining room chair, her knees drawn together and leaning forward while Alice occupied the large,soft sprung armchair.

"I called round at the end of the day's work when I felt at my most competent and professional and the minute I stepped through her front door, I went into her living room. All kinds of rubbish was strewn everywhere and she looked ghastly. Immediately I started feeling sorry for her and assumed that everything that had happened was someone else's fault. She immediately started talking about having been sexually assaulted by a man she worked with and gave me blow by blow, dramatic moment by dramatic moment of her feelings and I accepted implicitly everything she said."

"What was she like, I mean compared to me?"George asked quietly out of nowhere. Alice jumped in her chair but Helen stroked her hand to comfort her.

"When she's down but not absolutely depressed, she's the kind of woman who pours out self-awareness in a stream of words. When she's right down, she doesn't talk so it's up to you to bring her out of herself. When she's on the way up, she's marvellously witty so you end up going on the town and to hell with responsibilities. When she's much further up, she goes into a rage if you have the slightest reservation with her plans. Once you get on the roller coaster, you never get off."

"So you ended up talking for hours and naturally, Bekky being ever so considerate doesn't think you have someplace else to be.I've seen her operate, remember," Nikki added acidly.

"Apart from cleaning her up a bit, making a cup of tea for her after which she got out a bottle of wine. We were going to have a party, it had all been told me that we ought to be spontaneous, that's the way she put it."

Nikki resisted the temptation to make an acid crack about the word 'spontaneous.' The whole thing stuck in her throat and made her very angry. She could see the whole thing unfold as if she were watching this on the silver screen. She was thankful that she wasn't left alone with her or she would have done something physical, seeing the damage that this woman's machinations had done to two dear friends of hers.

"I sat on the settee with her and drank some wine with her. She said that this felt like the old days and didn't this feel nostalgic. Her head started to lean against my shoulder and she started talking in an appealing, little girl tone of voice. It was then that I knew for certain that she was trying to seduce me, trying to unbuttom my shirt. I found that she wouldn't let go of my hand, that she was trying to kiss me..."

Out of the corner of her eye, Helen felt George flinch. This was the bit she had been dreading. Alice had managed to summon up all her strength to maintain a level tone of voice but she stumpled to a halt.

"...It was the smell of alcohol on her breath that did it. I switched on my Social Worker hat and I knew rightaway she had an alcohol problem," Alice continued, somehow picking up the thread of her story. "I realised right then how close she came to drawing me back into her world that I thought of George and I thought of all of you at Chix.I told her that I had a partner and I ought to be getting back home when she immediately turned on me. She started shouting at me, blaming me for everything. I got up, grabbed my handbag and made a desperate run for the front door and was just in time to get out and starting running up the road, anywhere to get away from her. It was dark and spitting down with rain. I only stopped when I got out of breath. I was leaning against a lamppost and took ages to catch my breath. By some miracle, I found my car keys and sneaked down the road to get to my car. My heart was in my mouth as I swear to God I thought she'd sneak up behind me. Eventually, I started the engine and drove like a bat out of hell. I stopped at a service station where I cleaned myself up a bit and let myself in. George surprised me and drew very understandable conclusions...".

"You poor thing,"George said in her most melting affectionate tone of voice. "I feel so sorry for you."

With that, she rushed over to Alice and buried her face in Alice's neck, fingers stroking her hair. Alice lay back in the depths of the armchair, feeling weak and drained while Nikki and Helen looked on fondly. She couldn't believe her incredible luck though the tangible feel of her beautiful blond lover lying on top of her was doing its best to reassure her . George was passionately kissing her neck, her cheek and finally found her rightful place inside Alice's tongue eagerly caressed George's. It had felt so long since they'd made contact. It wasn't until an outrageously long period of time had elapsed when George finally turned herself away from the endless attractions of Alice's face. Even then, she curled herself round her lover, her arm curved around Alice's neck.

"Well, we have a lot of making up to do. I bet you my finest bottle of champagne that you two have been beavering away at Alice to do just that?" George said impishly while a blissful smile was spread across Alice's face and strong feelings of desire were welling up in her. Alice's hand linked itself with George's free hand, their fingers delicately stroking each others.

"George, have you ever lost an argument in your entire life?" questioned Nikki, a broad smile curving round her lips, obviously happy for her friends.

"No never," retorted George impudently before a thought struck her. "Well, I did once, the first time I ever met you after your second appeal. Remember?"

"I suppose I did though it might be pure luck or I was on particularly good form that day," Nikki said in those self-deprecating tones that so endeared itself to her friends.

"I suppose you'll be off home now though you're welcome to stop a little while longer," Helen offered politely though she knew the answer. The sexual desire that radiated from the armchair could be felt a mile away.

"Any other time but right now, I want to go home and ravish this woman of mine and I suspect that Alice feels the same, don't you darling?"

As the two women were walking along to the front door, a thought struck the blond haired woman.

"You didn't drive over here, Alice darling?" George called out anxiously as a sudden thought struck her.

"I came over by taxi," Alice said in her reassuring tones much to George's relief. The audible sigh and the blissful smile on her face said everything as Alice's head leaned into George's, her arm encircling the blond woman's waist.

"Thank God for that. The only problem there is in keeping my hands off you till we get home," George called out loudly for the whole wirld to hear which made Nikki and Helen grin affectionately at her. Alice gloried in the delicious feeling of being loved.

Not surprisingly, George's car roared off down the street at record speed and Nikki and Helen appreciated their friends' unfortunate dilemma.


	6. Chapter 6

**Scene Six**

_A / N Information taken from Patient UK Pregnancy Screening checks _

It occurred to Jo that, now her relationship with John was finally starting to go on track, nothing was stopping him from telling Sir Ian of the happy news and the fact that Jo Mills would no longer appear before him in court. Because this was starting to become a fact of life, it was a matter that logic demanded that he get his head around this idea.

With that in mind, Jo swung easily into the corridor that led to John's chambers and into the room. Coope shot her an inquisitive glance as her mind started to work out the purpose of the call. To her surprise, neither of them embarked on any opening gambit that was the prelude to the incongruent slotting in of personality discords and mutual agreement on the injustices of the case under consideration. She dropped her handbag on the side and smiled at the man who lay back so nonchalantly in his armchair.

"Can you really bear to give up the prospect of me appearing before you in court," Jo asked as if in jest.

"I don't know," John mused. "It's not as if you're a junior barrister who needs some guidance. You're making your own mark as is aren't half so isolated as we once were."

"But," pursued Jo, a glint in her eye as she spotted his circuitous line of discourse. "Are you really committed to the idea of telling Sir Ian that we are an item? It will mean that they can call off the bloodhounds and we can feel secure at last."

A mysterious look appeared on John's face as he mulled over the implications of her statement. He had got so used to the LCD breathing over his shoulder and had great delight in foiling their efforts. It struck him as very odd to take steps to disarmament in this one area of his life after years of warfare.

"It won't feel like living in Soviet Russia with snap happy officious court officials at work. You'll remember how close it came to finishing off my professional career, that time we were photographed in bed together."

"Don't I just," grinned John. "That was in the days when the brethren regarded me as the outcast and not the standard bearer. How times change. Now they would rally to my side if the Powers of Darkness made the slightest move against me."

Jo looked at John with great curiosity. She couldn't help noticing how he had neatly slithered away from her question and how the glint of amusement in his eyes and the smile on his face was for himself. All the while, the sun streamed in through the window and illuminated the scene. It struck a false note as she felt she was owed an answer to a serious question about their lifestyle and how much she could count on talking about themselves as an item. She debated for a long while whether or not to press the point but something in the man's inscrutable smile deterred her from taking such a risk in their newfound relationship. Even as the seconds ebbed away, a still small voice inside her told her that she was making a mistake. The trouble was that the more the seconds ebbed away, the harder it felt for her to backtrack on her decision- if it could be called as such..

Unseen by Jo, Coope pursed her lips disapprovingly. She knew that the judge was making a mistake but it was not for her to say.

When Jo drove her way home from the first Monday's work in September, the leaves on the trees were starting to turn yellow gold but this first sign of impending winter was belied by the glorious warmth of the tail end of Summer. The sun glinted down on her as she manoeuvred her car out of the London traffic towards her rural splendour just conveniently outside London. She was heading off home towards a well deserved dinner and a refreshing cup of tea. To her way of thinking the good feeling inside her felt well-deserved and no more than what she deserved.

As she looked at the way she lived her life, she felt pretty satisfied with her lot in life. She'd had her fill of years of ceaseless grind in bringing up her children and pursuing her professional career, and the fiendish dichotomy of her heartache of the decline and death of her loyal husband and of her shameful yet attractive affair with were days when she felt that life's burdens were too heavy to carry, that all life held out to her was this same intolerable burden, day after day, week after week and year after year, unending with no let up. Somehow she'd pulled through and finally, she'd seen off both her sons, now dependable young men to a bright future at university. She'd found that the hard road she'd trod of crusading cases had been mysteriously been transformed into a career option. The cases that she'd handled, the Nikki Wade reappeal and Helen Stewart versus Regina had both provided favourable publicity and the respect of her peers. She'd long noticed from the sidelines the flashier,more publicity conscious members of the brethren crowing over their latest victory and felt underappreciated. Now all that was changed by the same mysterious process that saw John Deed transform from the 'baker's boy' to the handsome leader of the revolution, a positive Che Guevera figure- or as much as his smart suited, clean shaven blue eyed charisma would ever let him.

Once again, Jo's thoughts returned full circle to that baffling, enigmatic ill assorted assembly of different personality traits that was John Deed. She'd picked up on the fact that he'd become more open, more willing to admit mistakes, more willing to put his emotions on the very same part of the line that his politics had been. Certainly Nikki and Helen's gentle ministrations had done wonders for him in the most sisterly fashion possible. She'd come across that from her very first meeting with him on her return to London when he'd gone out of his way to talk about them. What she was still getting her head round was how John had come to place them in a category of woman that defied both explanation and description. She knew that there was a positive intimacy between them which posed no threat to her or anyone else. Those two women saw through John but the wonder of it all was that it didn't faze him.

What perturbed Jo was a trace of the old John peeping out the previous Thursday when she mentioned the possibility of telling Sir Ian that they were an had asked the question not once but twice, three times in different guises and John's replies followed some parallel universe that didn't meet up with what she was saying. Was his reluctance to tell Sir Ian to keep him guessing while ensuring that he wasn't trying a case where she was appearing ? That would be in keeping with his impish sense of mischief and would square the circle. Did he really want Jo to appear before him and have the committed relationship with her that she fundamentally wanted? That was equally possible as both genuinely enjoyed the trials they conducted. Then again, John was now in the situation that he could depend equally on George in helping to achieve justice so that Jo's presence in court was no longer indispensible as the one crusading barrister. Now that George was securely in a relationship with her partner, it took away the tension that had sparked between them. She had no reason to be insecure about George's presence around John as she had once been. Finally, was John's protestations of constancy a step too far for him and would he revert to his womanising ways that had so marred their relationship in the past. The trouble was that this was an equal possibility along with all the rest.

As Jo finally got home to her very pleasant looking brick built house in a row of similarly looking countryish looking houses, the light and warmth had gone out of the day. As Jo slammed the car door shut, she felt that arriving at her longed for destination home was less satisfying than all her struggles through the London traffic. There was a sense of emptiness inside her as she twisted the key in the Yale lock and pulled the door open with the considerable effort required of such ancient woodwork which mysteriously swelled and shrank with the seasons. She flung her briefcase on the side, hung her coat up on the hook and made her way to the kitchen for the nice English cup of tea, the habitual remedy for frayed was home now- for what home was worth.

Meanwhile, Jo's rural paradise housed an overlooked corner of the village that consisted of concrete slab-sided council houses and a new arrival was making her desperate arrival from all the mixed-up confusion of life in London.

"There's your home from home," the removals van driver called out cheerfully to the woman passenger. "It's number 8 only the house number's missing."

"So's the front gate," came the surly laconic reply in a surprisingly educated accent, if dressed down for the occasion. This was the nearest to a conversation that the driver had exchanged with this woman throughout the journey. He had a bit of the gift of the gab and most women opened up to him. He was the friendly kind to whom most women reacted that way. Conversations were part of the perks of the job but he contented himself with the thought that you win some, you lose some. The job was a cut price one and he hoped she'd do her best to help hump her belongings into the house, pay the bill so he could piss off home to where his dinner on the table was waiting.

Sure enough, the standard wooden front gate should have sported a house number on the gatepost that, in years gone past, the metal hinges would have let the entrance click shut only house number and gate had been unscrewed sometime past. The wooden boarding had only just been taken off the windows as it had lain vacant for some months. By circuitous means, the middle aged woman had secured the tenancy of the observation noted her slim build, well worn black leather jacket and jeans faded at the knee. Though she'd done a few miles on the clock, he concluded laconically that she wasn't that bad looking and had something about her for those who liked that type.

As the man helped the customer move in the three piece suite, he did grudgingly hand it to her that she didn't fumble the job and made a passable assistant as likewise, she opened the doors smartly as he wheeled in first her washing machine and then her cooker on his trolley. She didn't get all petulant and tired on him but slogged away reliably enough, her sparse conversation drying up on her. He accepted this as any guy would be the same. It was only when the woman swung down a battered looking red electric guitar that was her pride and joy by the way she took care of it, gesturing to him to carry the amplifier that his interest was vaguely stimulated. He was even more surprised when a newer looking bass guitar emerged from the depth of the van.

"So you've been in a girl band then," he asked shortly. He scratched his head and wondered if she was secretly famous but reckoned that one popstar looked like another these days and this woman was no spring chicken.

"Not the sort of girl bands you see on telly these days," she laughed, that flash of a smile making her suddenly look younger and more attractive. "In any case, it's my business who or what I am."

"OK, I'll leave it off," the man replied, slightly irritated by this woman's edginess. She'd been on her guard from the word go. "You'd better make an effort to fit in around here as from my experience, villagers don't take kindly to what they see as an attitude problem- or otherwise if you're annoying the neighbours."

"I live my life as I like," she retorted, reaching inside her pocket for her cigarette packet and lighter. "Here you are, want one," she continued with no suggestion of a feminine desire to please him.

"Don't mind if I do," he said, as if accepting it from a nicotine worked its way round his system as he noticed the sun start to set through the small elm tree in the front garden. He'd done his whack for the day. "Anyway, if that's the last of your stuff, it's time to settle up."

The woman looked around in the large bag of obvious personal belongings and fished out her cheque book and cheque card. The man was grateful that this woman was together enough in this rerspect. He'd done jobs where either men or women had turned the piled up possessions upside down, the one blaming the other while he sighed to himself in barely controlled exasperation. At least this trip was swift and business-like with no hassles. It did cross his mind just why this woman came to this part of the country as she wrote out the cheque in her surprisingly neat and regular handwriting but soon dismissed it from his mind as he had a home to return to and he was dog tired.

In the meantime, Nikki was accompanying Helen on a bright September morning on her visit to St Mary's for her 12 week checkup on the progress of her pregnancy. Helen said enough of it to prompt Nikki to obtain Paul's ready consent to accompany Helen and pass on his own good wishes.

Helen had answered questions from the midwife early on in her pregnancy about her general health, family history, social history, and had answered them in rapid confident tones partly to persuade herself that this was how she really felt and was pleased to be pronounced to be as fit and healthy as she'd ever been. She'd been weighed, had her blood pressure checked and altogether, she had been made to feel very special by the sympathetic professionals whose attitude she respected and related to

"I'm not exactly a young prospective mother, you understand," Helen had said in a way that was intended to please some abstract standard, or so the midwife guessed as she guessed Helen's fears."You don't have to be in your late teens to be a perfect conceiving mother or do you."

"You've got it perfectly correct, Helen. You shouldn't be in a frantic race to conceive like a biological clock on steroids," the midwife replied in reassuring tones.

Helen clung onto that reassuring thought as she'd read up all about pregnancies and she needed to keep that nagging thought at bay that she and Nikki were guaranteed a perfect baby. Certainly, if looks and personality were considered, then they had every reason to be optimistic.

There was something about Helen's disconsolate stance that impelled Nikki to put her arms round her from behind and kiss her on her cheek and Helen melted into the strength of the love that her lover knew that, while Nikki wasn't 'in your face' over-demonstrative in her public displays of affection, this exception was about her pure love for Helen and her ability to tune in to how she was feeling.

They drove off to St Mary's hospital pre natal clinic and found their way round the clean bright endless corridors to the bit of the hospital they were familiar with and checked in at reception.

Nikki was kindly allowed in as Helen was made ready to lie flat on her back to receive an ultrasound scan. The clinically efficient nurse explained to Helen that she would need to lie on her back, that she would spread a cold jelly-like substance over her lower abdomen, and then using a transducer to move over the abdomen to find the baby and the foetal heart beat. The transducer transfers images to a computer monitor of the emerging foetus. Even at the twelve week stage of pregnancy, it could accurately date the age of the unborn baby and expected time of birth, and to check for twins or more...

"Twins?"Helen echoed, the thought literally never having occurred to them before. "I know Nikki and I wanted to start a family but..."

"Just relax," came the laughing, reassuring reply," Just trust us."

Nikki grinned at the words used innocently by the helpful member of St Mary's hospital team. How often had Helen, the self confessed 'prison officer professional' used such words to Nikki years ago? Even lying on her back, Helen caught the train of thought from her mischievous partner and the irony of the situation couldn't help but make her smile.

Helen did as she was instructed and lay flat on her back as the cold substance was applied to her. She looked at the computer screen, at all the hardwear and all this highlighted from the way the nurse worked with clinical precision that there was a growing being within her that would eventually emerge into the light of day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Scene Seven**

"Hey Nikki, take a look at the notice of our Annual General Meeting. It's that time of the year," Paul said carelessly as he strolled in to her work place in his typical laid-back fashion.

"That's wonderful, Paul. I suppose a number of us will be going," Nikki said in her endearingly shy fashion that didn't want to push herself forwards if it meant the slightest hint of self-agrandisement.

"The list of those involved starts with you, up your diary for Wednesday November 19th. The only reason you were left out last year was because, if I remember it right, you were in court giving evidence for your friend Karen Betts."

"That's really kind of you, Paul," Nikki answered, blushing with pleasure at the fullsome natural modesty and dedication to the job in hand didn't permit her the narcissistic boastfulness to colleagues as to whaty a superwoman she was. They tended to get short, abbreviated accounts of what she did , of her circle of friends and to let her work and actions speak for themselves.

"We'd be idiots to leave you out. You're a natural with your background, your hard work since you've been here, your involvement in a number of high profile court cases, with your circle of friends including a judge and a barrister not forgetting that remarkable woman of yours, Helen Stewart. I'll shut up at this point as I know what you're like at accepting praise."

Nikki grinned sheepishly at her boss's kindly words and wondered if she would rise to the challenge. If Paul thought she was up to it, she would take his word for it and see what gives.

"All this is new to me, to help out with an Annual General Meeting," she confessed.

"That's why I'm inviting you to sit in at the managers meeting so you know what's going on. I know you work best hearing things first hand. Feel free to ask questions about anything that comes up. I mean it."

After Paul drifted off, a wide smile was spread permanently across her face. This was the working life she wanted, an organisation that would be supportive, that would give her her head and above all else, something that she could believe in.

"How long have I been here?" Nikki asked Paul in a dazed tone of voice as they strolled down the corridor to the meeting room. To her recollection, the months had simply flown past as her work had engrossed her.

"By my reckoning, a year and four months though it feels like you've always been here. I mean it in the nicest possible way, you know."

"You're flattering me, Paul. I'm not great at accepting compliments. This time I'll live with it seeing as this meeting is a totally new experience, like will they really like me as I really am? You can have too much of a good thing."

"Don't worry, natives are friendly or so Dr Livingstone assures me."

Nikki always liked the guy's dry sense of humour but never more than now. It was so much like her own and was exactly what she needed right now to steady her nerves. Going to a management meeting was a completely new experience for Nikki and she tried to recall Helen's episodic accounts of her experiences at to herself, she might do a runner as management meetings had that aura of an impossibly high standard of professionalism whereas she had brought herself up by her own bootstraps. For a moment, memories of her first officer job came to her mind. She was going up in the world but wasn't there the danger of vertigo?

"Watch out I don't open my gob too much. You know what I'm like," she joked nervously.

"Nikki," Paul said, laying his hands on her shoulders. "In all the time you've worked for me, have I ever told you you've either said or written a complete load of crap?"

"Well, er no," she said hesitatingly.

"I suffer fools and bullshitters less than you think I do only as you've never had cause to see that side of me. I'll look after you, believe me."

Nikki swallowed and tried to put on a brave face on things. What else could she do but trust in him?

Paul flung the door open wide and what Nikki saw instantly struck her favourably . Instead of some some soulless, antiseptic corporate chrome and glass world, this was a step back into the past with a round timeworn mahogany table in the centre, pictures on the walls including the organisation's founder, John Howard, the bookcases were full. Overall, the atmosphere was rarefied, conservative yet Nikki wasn't going to scorn the visible marks of its Victorian charitable origins. It was then that she took in the array of middle aged men and women with greying hair and dressed in sensible suits. There was the Assistant Director, Policy Development Officers, Programme Managers and the like. Nikki looked at her own black trouser suit which had a flamboyant cut about it and her white open neck shirt was stylish, not businesslike. She considered her own role as researcher and concluded that, worthy though the others might be, she didn't need a fancy title to prop up her ego with. She looked at Paul and didn't even think of his job title. He was her boss and that's all he needed as she affectionately considered how impossible it was for him to look like other than a casually dressed academic.

It took Nikki's full concentration to take in the language of meetings, of agendas, of minutes from the previous meeting which she'd not seen whipped through the preliminaries at bewildering speed and she was only saved by Paul discreetly pointing to the relevant part of the paperwork and discreetly whispering in her ear. It was when the choice of speakers when she pricked up her ears and came to life.

"We have made a point of inviting the current Home Secretary to speak so that there can be an exchange of views where hopefully, we can temper the increasingly immoderate views that are expressed. I take it that there is no dissent that we are wasting time in inviting the current incumbent. His views are taken straight off the printing press of the more disgusting tabloids," the Assistant Director proposed in a discreet tone of voice reminiscent of the archetypal Whitehall mandarin.

"Here here," the most conservative woman said loudly. Nikki opened her eyes wide and her fervent clapping was notched up distinctly louder than the polite assent that rustled round the table. If only Helen could see me now she'd laugh out loud, she thought to herself, colouring slightly as all eyes were upon her.

"You know the man, Ms Wade," the director asked in not unfriendly that split second, the universe turned as she strove for control. Finally, her sheer nerve came to her rescue. that quality which had never let her fail any challenge put before her.

"I have good friends in the legal profession who dislike the man intensely," Nikki replied, her multilingual ability that enabled her manner to chime in with the others, to talk their language. She quickly decided that the words that came to mind, 'loathe his guts' was not perhaps well chosen and continued in as smooth a speaking voice as she could conjure up. "I did happen to be passing by and saw the high court judges remonstrate with him when they went on strike against his plans for mandatory sentencing. I confess he did not impress me as someone you could have a dialogue with, though, of course, you may have longer experience of him than I have. Just my opinion, that's all."

A rustle of attitude made its murmurous way round the table and because it was so ambiguous and non committal, Nikki mouthed 'how did I do?' to Paul who gently squeezed her hand in the most inconspicuous fashion, reassuring his friend that the others had been quietly impressed. They were all ears as Nikki had grabbed their interest.

"We did try for the Secretary of State for Children, Schools and Families but his agenda is so copiously occupied that I received his appropriately drafted regrets that he couldn't attend so I took the liberty in phoning an old friend, Andrew McCully, Director of Supporting Children and Young People. I am sure he will attend but I do need a second string speaker who will be up to the job. I fancy from the earlier conversation that you, Ms Wade nmight be able to assist."

"Me?" Nikki said incredulously, not expecting for her views to be canvassed. She had about two thirds way worked out how to 'play herself into the rhythms of the discourse. She never expected to be so high profile as the complete novice here.

"Why not you. I have heard good things about you,"the Assistant Director said, a kindly look in his eye for the first time Nikki had entered the room.

"I suppose I do know a diverse range of people. What about a judge? John Deed comes to mind."

"Ms Wade, the problem as I see it is that judges are handing down sentences that are filling up our prisons at a disquieting rate of knots," answered the most severely check suited man in harsh dismissive man had a white moustache and beard as if to reinforce his masculinity in his attempt to dominate the meeting. Right, I'll show him, Nikki thought, her spirits roused. It doesn't matter what the hell job he does in the organisation. I'm as good as anyone here.

"Not the judge I have in mind. He stands fervently for justice, compassion and for all the traditional freedoms and virtues you care to name. He is well respected amongst the judiciary,"insisted Nikki, her enthusiasm overflowing as Paul had predicted.

"Their modus operandi is partly to satisfy the imagined views of the ordinary British public. Five minutes after they have retired to their chambers, they have swept from their minds any thoughts as to how that prisoner will spend his or her life,"came the sarcastic response.

"Not John. I have not ever met anyone who questions the world around him, including himself. He is striving for truth in the same way we are but a different field.I assure you that he will make an excellent speaker."

Nikki's voice made such an impression of passionate conviction that Paul allowed a strategic measure of time to elapse as the rest of the board mulled over the idea before carrying on with the debate.

"I think we ought to pursue Nikki's suggestion," he interjected in measured tones,"That is, unless anyone else has any more compelling suggestions."

"But how do we know he's willing and ,more to the point, able to attend our conference? I confess I've never heard of him before and we don't want to get let down at the last minute."

Nikki was ready for that as Paul noticed with amusement out of the corner of his eye. He knew very well in advance that, once his talented subordinate got the measure of the meeting, she couldn't be chained back.

"I'll get out and talk to him there are any problems, I'll tell Paul immediately. Should I get the verbal OK, this can be embodied in the nature of a formal invitation. Does that sound all right?"

There was a ripple of sounds round the table and, smiling slightly, the Assistant Director gave his approval. In moving to the next item on the agenda, Nikki subsided into polite subserviance while her mind started racing ahead on her self-imposed errand. She hoped she'd judged right and Paul led her to sleepwalk her way through the rest of the meeting.

"Hey judge, It's Nikki here," the audibly excited tone of voice resonated down the phone while Helen smiled and held her hand. She had got the gist of her lover's excited flurry of words as she raced in at express speed.

"From the way you're speaking, you're the bearer of good news,"John replied in his warmest tones while Monty discreetly read his copy of the times the other side of the dining room table in the digs, his ears suitably attuned.

"How would you like to be second speaker at the Howard League of Penal Reform AGM judge?"

"Only second speaker, Nikki?" questioned John in amused tones while Monty smiled indulgently. It was as well that he's just finished his vegetarian dinner as otherwise, Monty knew that his friend would carry on the conversation whence it led and let his dinner get cold.

"There's some Government minister for children but don't worry, you'll easily upstage him," Nikki eagerly pursued while Helen delightedly kissed the top of her lover's head. She knew she'd swing it with him as how could he platonically resist her?

"So what is it I'm supposed to talk about?"John replied, giving the game away, much to Monty's amusement who concluded exactly the same as Helen did.

"Oh, you know," Nikki replied, waving invisible circles with her free hand. "The role of the judge in shaping justice, restitution and mercy,"she continued, inventing the title from off the top of her head which she made a mental note to advise Paul as that had been left out of the meeting's deliberations.

The wheels in John's mind started turning straightaway and he resolved that, no matter what trial might come up, his friend Monty would cover for him, judging by his friendly smile from over the top of his newspaper and the way he nodded his head approvingly.

"You're on, Nikki. You embody this in the form of a letter and Coope will give it her special attention. You know what she's like."

"That's really kind of you, judge. I was worried that I'd taken you for granted."

"My pleasure. I'll enjoy myself. You give my best wishes to Helen who I know is listening to every word of the conversation."

"How the hell did he know?" Helen asked in bewildered tones as her arms slid round her partner' her hormones might be doing right now as her pregnancy advanced, it didn't mean that she wasn't going to stop fancying her girlfriend right now.

"Because he knows your habits only too well," Nikki replied pertly just before their lips met and blocked off any further convwersation for a while.


	8. Chapter 8

**Scene Eight**

"Ian, what a surprise to see you," that distantly remembered voice purred from behind him as he was drinking alone in the bar where he stopped off at the end of a day's work , just round the corner of the offices of the Lord Chancellor's Department.

One might have thought that the stiffly besuited man was hung up every night in some cupboard as work finished only to be unpacked the next day, as he gave the impression that he lived for his career and had no existence outside it. Moreover, his manner was cold, restrained and emotionless except for the occasions when John's mocking laugh roused him to peevish anger and when he used Lawrence James as his whipping boy when things went wrong. He went about his business with unrelenting zeal, studying papers, exercising his steely control over his subordinates and ensuring that his grip on his department remained absolute. The other side of the coin of this autocrat was the time and effort he spent greasing the wheels of administration in relation to the ministers and other heads of department that his work interlinked with. Most difficult was his interactions with the judges. Often, he thought to himself, that talking to these prickly, independent minded judges demanded a doppelganger personality, one that could cajole, indulge and patiently reason with tempremental prima donnas when the other side of his world meant that all he need do was to snap his fingers to command instant obedience. All he had to back him up was the unspoken set of values that could be best summed up as the Old School Tie and the common understanding of the common good. That had held his world together in the past but now his world was coming apart on him. It was up to him to make amends after his disastrous annual report and focus harder than ever on the tasks in hand.

It was his habit to occasionally drop into this pub after work in the hope that one or other of his cronies would be there. They could offer each other cold comfort and discuss the way the country was going to the dogs. They would obtain some kind of mournful pleasure in obtaining the flickering flame of intimacy. Of course any personal matters were kept under wraps. Coming out with emotional outpourings might be what women did but was indecent to his refined 'd been brought up to think that such matters would sort themselves with a certain degree of application and focussed thinking. Sometimes there were good days, sometimes bad days. It was the way life went and shouldn't be a separate question. Go down that route and life became messy, disorganised and out of control. He didn't want to know about it, wouldn't hear of it.

Suddenly, his ex-wife leapt out of nowhere and he focussed his mind on that glamorous stranger. Was he ever married to her once?

"Don't look as if you didn't know me. What about your manners, your sense of propriety that you are known so well for?" that voice said again with a mocking twist to it as she saw the dazed look in his eye.

There she was, that elegant woman wearing a simple black low-cut dress showing more than a hint of her ample breasts. Her long, slightly reddish hair was pulled away from her forehead and fell over her shoulders. Her straight nose might give an impression of strength and honesty but her musical voice arched and skidded off the syllables and was as tricky as the look in her blue eyes. Her shapely lips had once smiled for him, and for Deed and other men she had consorted with till finally their limping marriage finally fell apart after one infidelity too many. She was no longer part of his life so what was she doing here?

"What are you doing here, Francesca if I might ask? I would have thought this would be off your beaten track," Sir Ian said in what he thought was a civilised manner of conversation.

"Still so cold, Ian? I might have thought you wouldn't change," Francesca said laughingly. "Still, just to satisfy your curiosity, I had this whim to call in while I was passing and while I had the time."

"I suppose you're on your way to see Deed. That's the only thing that would bring you back into my orbit," Sir Ian said with what he thought was icy politeness and which Francesca saw as his paranoia coming out. It was obvious that the man's sex-life was zero, she thought as she tingled inside at the thought of the smooth tongued publisher whose drop dead looks she was looking forward to sampling and, of course, his very smooth tongue. Of course, Ian was not to know about it. For once, she had spoken the plain and simple truth but her ex-husband was not to know that as he was so wrapped up with his government intrigues.

"Good heavens, Ian. You're miles out. I haven't seen John for years. He's mixing in completely different circles, or so I hear."

"What circles?" he said hastily, a tremor of excitement in his voice. Poor man, Francesca thought contemptuously, he's overplayed his hand by a mile.

"Nothing I know of. He's not around in my circle of acquaintances. He hasn't pursued me for a long time. Why don't you ask him?" Francesca said, trying her best to choke off this particular topic of conversation. Already she was getting bored with the conversation and she started looking around her.

"Where did things go wrong between us - just as a matter of interest?"

Francesca looked curiously at the man who had once been her husband. He had never asked her that question before. For once, she couldn't work out his motivation.

"Do you know darling, what puzzles me is why you originally proposed to me. I always felt you should have been a monk."

Sir Ian's mask shut down on him. He wasn't going to part with his innermost secrets under these terms The carelessly dropped 'darling' was pathetically meaningless. It might as well have been directed towards the milkman when paying the monthly bill.

"Your idea hardly has any credibility as you know I've never been formally family provided well for me to pursue my career- and the sort of lifestyle which saw you well provided for. The circles we moved in thought we were well matched."

"Good God, are you really still so soulless and cold blooded. I thought that human suffering would humanise you," Francesca jested, tilting her glass of wine at him with one hand and teasing her hair with the other. Her peculiarly brazen manner finally got the reaction that she had been manoeuvring for.

"If by your flippant words, am I feeling more well disposed to you with the passage of time, well I'm sorry but the answer is no. What you did, not once but many times, was absolutely unforgivable."

Francesca stood open-mouthed at the sudden surge of emotion that poured out. The man's brow was sweaty. She had never known the man to sweat before.

"So you did have feelings for me?"

"Believe what you want. If you care to go your way in life, I'll go mine."

With those rapidly tossed out words, Sir Ian twisted sideway on his heel and rushed out of the pub. With all the pressure on him, the last thing he wanted was that horrible woman to unearth the torments that he thought he'd finally sealed over and buried forever. All he wanted was stability in his life. The last thing he wanted was all that bad feeling to burst loose. The thought of that frightened him as he hailed a taxi to get him back safely home.

Lawrence James observed his master as he greeted him sourly with his sheaf of reports. Sir Ian wearily indicated the in tray for them upon which the man made his discreet departure. He knew very well from the signs when his presence was welcome and when it was not. Too late, Sir Ian started to think that perhaps he wanted some human company but what topic would they talk about that wasn't formal and businesslike? The state of the weather? Sighing, he gave himself up to the onerous duties represented by his in tray. A stray suspicion lurked inside him that there certain virtues in being overworked before he reassured himself with the thought that this was the natural order of things and this was what he did for a living. .

He had ploughed halfway through his work when a phone call was put through to him. Of course, no ordinary Tom, Dick or Harry could pick up the phone and call all, he had an organisation to filter out the routine and the unimportant. This call was different. It was his old friend who sat on the board of the Howard League of Penal Reform, one of his useful contacts .

"Why hello, Peter, it's pleasant to hear from you these days," he said in as positive a voice as he could conjure up, shaking off the miasma of his bad mood. His habitual reluctance to introspection precluded him from ever calling it by the starkly dangerous term of depression. The last thing he'd ever want to think was that he might be falling apart.

"I went to one of our management meetings yesterday which wasn't one of our best ones. On reflection I was gravely disturbed by the content."

"I'm obviously sorry for you," Sir Ian hastily interjected not having a clue why he should be bothered by other people's ills, not even his friends," but we can all have our off days when things don't go the way we want it. It's one of the occupational hazards of high position."

The line went quiet for a few minutes while the other man, Peter Jenkins, thought carefully. He had snippets of information to impart, having heard from Ian in general terms that judges these days were a more turbulent, unruly mood than they used to be. On balance, he decided to come clean.

"I don't know if I ever told you about the strident lesbian activist who somehow wormed her way into our course, where I work, it's distinctly non PC to talk in these terms but you and I can talk openly between ourselves."

The tweed suit of the man down the other end of the phone expressed the man's solid conservatism and unwillingness to move with the times if the ideas were progressive. He normally talked in smooth oily tones to his friends and dismissive disdain to his enemies. The reverses he'd sustained at the meeting brought the natural man to the surface and vengeful malice infected his manner.

"I've come across the type before," Sir Ian said tersely without elaborating on the point.

"Her name's Nikki Wade though I don't suppose the name means anything to you. Dreadful abominable abbreviation to her Christian name."

Sir Ian jerked upright at the name. His friend's fussy pedantry passed him by as unimportant.

"These new radicals are getting too much of a hold of our organisation with no respect for the tried and trusted ways of doing business. We are a charitable organisation and nothing more," complained Peter Jenkins in aggrieved tones at the way his world was being forcibly changed. "Anyway, they had a field day and persuaded our Assistant Director who, between you and me, can be easily influenced, to have this John Deed as second speaker for our next Annual General Meeting."

"You can't be serious," exclaimed Sir Ian, spilling the cup of tea that lay to the side of him. Instantly, he could feel the tension rising inside him and the beginnings of what he knew was going to be a stinker of a headache. Increasingly, he was subject to strange moods that werre disproportionate to their cause and he found himself being inclined to overreact. This time, he could really feel his emotions taking off on a dangerous spiral whose destination frightened him. Right now, he felt clammy inside with that horrible feeling of being helpless to stop his world from going out of his control. He gulped a mouthful of tea to calm himself down only the hot liquid stung his lips. Finally, the physical pain caused him to snap out of it and get a grip on himself.

"I can't pretend to you that this is the very worst of news but I'm glad to hear about it. There may be something that can be done about it," he said in cold, considered tones.

"You never know, he may make a mistake. After all, he's supposed to be nice to prisoners and he must have done his share in increasing the prison population."

"You may be right Peter," Sir Ian said, a faint ray of sunshine peeping through the overwhelming gloom. He was wary to go to the other extreme and be wildly optimistic after having seen his most promising schemes go up in smoke at Deed's hands. No, calm measured control was the answer. The only problem was that he wanted to be alone in order to try and achieve it and wanted to be off the phone as soon as possible.

"Perhaps we could exchange ideas. Personally speaking, I could live with the AGM being blighted with his contribution going down like a lead balloon if the greater good is served. Perhaps we could discuss it sometime."

"It might be a good idea but I do need to think this over. Anyway, it's nice to have a pleasant chat but I can see someone coming already," Sir Ian lied, inventing the fictional character on the spot. "I really must be going."

With the phone silenced, a chill feeling started to eat its way into Sir Ian's soul while his thoughts churned over, with no purchase on anything of substance.


	9. Chapter 9

**Scene Nine**

"Thank God for the internet," Helen had exclaimed into the evening air. "If I hadn't done my homework, you'd still be treating me like a precious piece of Dresden china, scared to death in case anything went wrong. You'd better be grateful."

"All right, I confess it. I didn't know any better," Nikki had moaned appologetically in reply to her lover's taunts as she had lain on her backin their comfortable flat. "I mean, years on the lesbian scene has taught me everything about emotional and physical love between women but babies? That's like learning a different language."

"So you have me to thank so that I can freely express my carnal lusts for you and for me to be equally pleasured," the very naked Helen had retorted, maximising her advantage as she had lain alongside Nikki , her wandering fingers delicately exploring the intimate areas she adored.

"All right, so I messed up. I made assumptions about pregnancy and wanted to be all noble and protective. I didn't realise what I'd done wrong."

"So instead of shagging the living daylights out of me as you have done ever since since we lived together, correction, since that first night together, I got the big freeze. Can't you believe I'd start to wonder why?" teased Helen, articulating every syllable with the tip of her tongue,******

Nikki had been in a helpless state of confusion. Her lover was and always had been never more alluring when she talked in direct sexual terms which normally did wonders for her libido but this time she was skewed by conflicting emotions.

"So maybe, I'll start with you first. You know what a gorgeous arse you have, how you've got luscious legs I'd die for and sneaking a peek at your physical charms is such a turn on," Helen had teased, her fingers slowly stroking her lover's flat stomach and obviously contemplating sliding down towards the centre of her desires. She had clearly intended to tantalise Nikki and work her up into a state of delerious physical hunger to be penetrated. All Nikki's insides had been crying out in a state of molten lust as inch by inch, those determined fingers had caressed the insides of her thighs, oh such a short distance away from where she had been crying out for them to be, the rhythm of her hips moving increasingly frantically. Finally, Helen had expertly slid inside her lover and had touched her in the way she loved best while Nikki had wrapped her arms round her lover, frantically kissing her. As Nikki had surrendered to the exquisite feeling of a gloriously sustained orgasm that had seemed to go on forever, she had delighted in the wonderful discovery that, in their single minded drive to parenthood, they didn't have to throw aside everything they'd learned about the many faceted sides of the love they shared. As she had sought every scrap of air into her lungs in the aftershocks of their lovemaking, Nikki had known beyond doubt that the very formidable, rampant Ms Stewart had intended to demand restitution in full. She had wondered if she was up to it..

All that had happened a few months ago in the early days of Helen's pregnancy when both of them had been adjusting to what it meant to them. The period of morning sickness when Nikki had been the concerned partner also told them loud and clear what was going on. As time rolled by, here they were again, both naked beneath the duvet and riding the changes they were going through. After all, what happened to Helen happened sympathetically to Nikki.

"Oh God, you're not really serious about rereading the panphlet about sex during pregnancy. I thought we'd figured that out when you first got hold of it," Nikki said incredulously.

"Perfectly serious. I want to make sure we're doing it right," Helen said, a broad grin splitting her face in two. Nikki rolled her eyes at the way her lover was tantalising this the result of some kind of hormonal gyrations? Suddenly, a flash of inspiration lit up her mind. Two could play that game.

"You mean sex? As if I'd ever need to go back to school on that one," Nikki said mischievously, a wicked smirk spreading across her face and a sparkle in her eyes. Helen tried to swat her partner with a corner of the duvet. She knew perfectly well that Nikki was teasing her.

"Don't you dare try to misunderstand me, Nikki Wade. I was trying to have a serious conversation," scolded Helen in forceful tones. Nikki wasn't done with the pretend argument yet as Helen suspected. She knew how verbally fluent her partner naturally was and how hanging out with distinguished members of the legal profession had sharpened her skills.

"You know, darling, if we were both given a book on home decorating, yours would be full of underlinings, bookmarks, cross referencing, notes at the side, shopping lists, colour charts etc, etc while mine would be buried in the bookcase. I'd be at it with paintbrushes, pots of paint, splashes all over my top and me walloping away on the walls, seeing what cooks. We're just made so differently," insisted Nikki, an audible smirk in her tone of voice.

"You know that I'm irresistable so why struggle?"Helen smartly answered, neatly turning the tables.

"I was great at English at school but useless at biology," protested Nikki seeking sympathy. She sensed that she was losing the argument with her strong-minded lover but not wanting to go down without a fight..

"But you had a twenty year layoff from academia, before being stuck in prison and doing your Joan of Arc routine against all the forces of injustice. Despite all that, you got your degree in English. Nobody told you you couldn't do it,"Helen retorted pertly, knowing very well that she herself was the significant driving force behind it.

"That's you having your cake and eating it, darling,"Nikki cheekily replied. It prompted Helen to try one more gambit in with most cajoling, sexiest voice and winning smile that she knew Nikki couldn't resist.

"So why don't you give up? All I'm asking you is to read this leaflet. Not much to ask, is it?"

"You're really don't give up, do you," Nikki surrendered suddenly, rolling over onto her stomach. She felt Helen's comforting arm round her shoulders to give her an affectionate squeeze and softened inside as she always did. Far be it from her to make a big issue over Helen's strange whim. From what she was picking up on, Helen's diet could take sudden strange turns. Nikki covered all bases by accepting philosophically what was to be and to grab their chances of pleasure as they came. She snuggled herself down with her partner and began to read the leaflet. This time,the words started to get through to her.

_"Of course, just because sex is safe during pregnancy doesn't mean you'll necessarily want to have it! Many expectant mothers find that their desire for sex fluctuates during certain stages in the pregnancy. You and your partner need to keep the lines of communication open regarding your sexual relationship. Talk about other ways to satisfy your need for intimacy, such as kissing, caressing, and holding each other. _

"Mmmm, now I see why you've been so dictatorial. I can relate to this advice which is right up my street."

"So long as you remember to do it. I don't think familiarity breeds contempt but it can breed complacency, something I could be guilty of just as much as you," interjected Helen pointedly, turning her head to grab Nikki's eye contact.

_You also may need to experiment with other positions for sex to find those that are the most comfortable._

"They're actually suggesting there are alternatives to the missionary position but I suppose straight couples might not know better. We're different because we're well away," Nikki finished smugly with a look on her face as of the cat that was well used to tasting cream on demand.

"Excuse me Nikki,"Helen exclaimed, "You're forgetting that I'll be drastically changing my figure in the next few months. You might be all right but I'm going to have to keep reviewing our has to."

"That sounds like something you stole from a book on management, darling,"murmured Nikki cheekily under her breath.

"Come on, I'm serious now. I know you love me but will you still desire me with my stomach hanging out to here? Isn't there a stereotype of lesbian women with gorgeous breasts , long legs and perfect figures?" challenged Helen. Her forcefully expressed words took Nikki aback. There was perfect truth in that remark backed to the hilt by any busy Saturday night at Chix. Nikki turned to look at the lurking fear in Helen's green eyes and a wave of infinite compassion went out to her lover. She really would need regular reassurance on this point, she concluded.

"Darling, you must understand that I'm better than average in rolling with the changes in life. You compare the busy professional me and the way that every right was stripped away from me when I was first banged up. I don't just see you as gorgeous when you're dressed up to the nines ready to party but when you first wake up in the morning., every moment of the waking day. I love you so much and I always will."

Nikki slow clear emotion laden tones smoothed away the jittery fears that had been unspoken up to that point. She leaned her head sideways to her lover and stroked her lithe figure.

_If you engage in oral sex, your partner should not blow air into your vagina. Blowing air can cause an air embolism (a blockage of a blood vessel by an air bubble), which can be potentially fatal for mother and child. _

"Jesus," Nikki exclaimed as the grim wake-up call sank through all her senses. This wasn't their style but the thought of suddenly losing her partner and their child to be chilled her through and through. She could feel Helen's meaning glance at her earlier was right of course.

_The contractions that you may feel during and just after orgasm are entirely different from the contractions associated with labour. However, you should check with your health care provider to make sure that your pregnancy falls into the low-risk category. Some doctors recommend that all women stop having sex during the final weeks of pregnancy, just as a safety precaution, because semen contains a chemical that may actually stimulate contractions. Check with your health care provider to see what he or she thinks is best_

Both women burst out in peals of delighted laughter in reaction to the previous shock to their senses . The advice was very kindly meant but sounded sweetly innocent to them. "No problems there, I think."

"Suppose we prove it," Helen said with a sultry seductive edge to her voice that was sweetly immediately felt the answering call from between her legs.

She sighed with pleasure as she was gently eased onto her back and Helen made it clear in her soft determined way in what form their sexual pleasure would take. From time to time, she fondly remembered the very first time when they had made love. The passage of time and tranquillity in their lives had softened out the fraught edginess of that well remembered night and had preserved the most magical moments. She had been soaring inside with mounting desire as Helen had ripped open her nurse's uniform and had pulled her passionately down onto the sofa. She had scarcely believed that life was real as the 'look but don't touch' Home Office professional had eagerly led her hands to feel her full breasts. At last the layers concealing that much desired woman's strong passions had been stripped aside... that woman of hers hadn't changed as her legs were astride her, pressing against her and Helen's full lips were laying a series of passionate kisses on her while Nikki gently stroked her back. They were working up towards their first orgasm of the evening and the feel of skin next to skin felt impossibly intimate and erotic.


	10. Chapter 10

**Scene Ten**

"So Alice,It's your turn to go up and swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?" Trisha asked the slightly nervous other woman as she ran her fingers through a lock of her dark hair that fell over her if to keep her worries at bay, she wore a glamorous low cut long dress that showed her statuesque figure to her best advantage.

They were relaxing in the comfortably furnished VIP lounge of Chix where they'd drifted up while Sally-Anne held the fort liked Alice's soothing manner and could see why George was so smitten with that aspect of her friend alone so it was a surprise to see this other side of her.

"It's the first time I've given evidence in court," the other woman frankly confessed. "I may live with a top class glamorous lady barrister but I know I'll have to hack it on my own when I'm on the witness stand. It's one thing to be in the witness gallery but it's quite another to be in the hot seat."

"Relax, Alice I'm sure you'll be all right on the night. It isn't as if you're on trial yourself," Trisha urged, trying to conjure up her best attempt at reassurance. To her astonishment, Alice coloured and shut late, she remembered how it was only nine months that they had watched Helen fighting for her freedom in the Old Bailey against the establishment's vindictive desire to nail an identified troublemaker by using the oldest trick in the book, the Official Secrets Act. It was easy to overlook this when she and Nikki were living their lives away from the perils of the theatre of political drama and settling down to start a family. The heartbeat pulse of the music pulsing away downstairs helped to detract from the embarrassing silence.

"If it might help you understand, I'm giving character evidence in support of one of my one-time clients who's been involved in what you might call a crime of passion and which is technically called Grievous Bodily Harm. I have the horrible suspicion that my evidence will be contemptuously tossed aside. I'm probably getting things out of proportion,"Alice finally said at last in an unsteady rush of words. George put her arm round her lover's waist and gently comforted her, taking her out of the limelight. She knew only too well the peculiar stresses of this case. The other women companionably left them on their own.

"So how are the proud prospective parents feeling?" joked Karen from behind them as Nikki floated towards her on Helen's arm. "It's a long time since you've come down here." Trisha turned round to see her friend at her most radiant and sun tanned, blond hair immaculately shaped, a gorgeous black dress showing plenty of thigh.

"We had a period of turning in on ourselves, trying to get our heads around the prospects of being parents, getting the flat sorted out, that sort of thing," Nikki said apologetically while Helen left her to it to front for them.

"And now you've proved yourselves to yourselves after, dare I say, severely neglecting your friends?" lectured Trisha sternly with an underlying affectionate tone. She'd missed her old friend's mentally stimulating company.

"We looked around us and suddenly realised that we screwed up. I say better late than never. Besides, Helen told me the hundreth time not to treat her as a piece of Dresden china, outside bed as well as inside it," Nikki confessed with an impish grin as she adroitly worked them out of that hole. "Anyway, It's lovely to see you, babes," she added, kissing her friend affectionately on both cheeks.

"So how do you, as one of the country's hard working nurses, manage to look so suntanned? I thought you doughty warriers for the NHS were permanently shackled to your rightful place in the hospital,"George cut in, surprisingly late to join in the general banter.

"Oh, I'm just lucky, I tan easily. This weather's been so glorious," came Karen's studiously misleading attempt at modesty.

"I still can't work it out,"broke in Helen. "When you're not working, you must be having great sex with Beth but you both live in a that takes time-unless you've got access to the roof."

"Pardon me Helen but what we do in bed is secret-though I'm sure your vivid imagination can work it out," cut back Beth to be greeted by Helen's notoriously dirty laugh that amused them all. Only Alice kept quiet as she had her share of problems.

Alice's place of work was the Town Hall, a classic thirties edifice that had been impressive in its time but looked as if it was gradually running to building was cold in winter and overheated in summer and the inhabitants had got used to grumbling about the series of minor faults in a very British fashion. Her own office was one floor up at the back of the building which she shared with her colleagues. Everywhere looked cluttered with papers and disorganised even though the onward march of computers could not be denied even in this organisation. There was a feeling of people passing through, only using their desks, phones and computers to write up notes, make phone calls and pick each other's brains until grabbing their briefcases and hurtling out on the road again.

Alice was seated on a swivel chair, and drumming her biro against her finger nails. She had been posed a very difficult professional and personal problem that was dangerously intertwined. Looking back on it, she had been led into it so easily.

It had all started from a routine visit, sparked from a home help worrying about the level of care provided to one of their elderly female residents. Unthinkingly, Alice had taken up the reference and had set off in her car, in professional mode of thinking. Years of doing her job had disabused her of thinking that they were sweet white haired granny figures, sitting by the idealised hearth knitting bootees for grandchildren. She had found out that they came from the cross section of the population, good bad or indifferent each of whom had their own histories. Her safest way of operation was, above all, to make no assumptions. The name Mrs Constance Elliott meant nothing to her.

Sure enough, she took the route towards a small council house enclave and the nondescript array of council bungalows, each with their front hedge, uniform wooden gate, concrete front path, the white lace front curtain and finally, the plain green front door. Up till that point, everything was inside the front door, beyond a certain amount of preparation, she would have to wing posed no problem to her as she had learnt the skills of putting people at their ease in additional to her own natural warm-hearted personality. From the second she got into the house, her instincts told her there might be trouble.

As soon as she entered the front room, a sense of chaos impinged on her straightaway. She sensed immediately that the conscientious efforts of the home helps had been set at nought by the old woman's determinedly perverse efforts to undo all their handiwork.

"What are you doing here?" a sharp, querelous voice demanded of her. "You're a spy. The neighbours have been telling tales on me." The beady eyed woman sat hunched up in her tall narrow armchair which Alice concluded she spent a lot of her time.

"Not at all," Alice had replied smoothly. "I'm paid by the council to organise help for anyone who might be struggling with their lives and not to impose on them in any way. Here's my identity card if you want to be sure of yourself."

The old woman had adjusted her glasses and had peered closely at the card displaying the photograph had resembled the smiling faced woman who presented herself before her she had concluded that this stranger might not have been trying to catch her off guard. The writing had told her a lot of official gobbledegook which had gone clean past her but she hadn't wanted to show that she'd been ignorant as hell of all this mumbo jumbo. She had decided to play crafty so a slight smile had creased her face.

"So you might be who you say you are. What if I tell you that I'm fine on my own?"

"You've been twice admitted to hospital because you've fallen over and the doctors say you've not been feeding yourself," Alice had replied as gently as she could for fear of offending the woman's sense of independence. The bandaged up right leg had born ample testament to the truth of her remark. As Alice got her bearings in the situation, it struck her that Mrs Elliott looked twenty years older than her actual age.

"True," she had sighed,"I can't get around as I used to. I don't see a soul for weeks on end-apart from the local busybodies,"...whom Alice had interpreted as the home help,"...and of course, my good for nothing daughter."

This had given Alice the lead in for this crotchety old woman to start to open up. As she started to ramble away, it created a picture of a heartless daughter who picked arguments with her deliberately to upset her, who only came round to sponge off her, to make her irregular visit out of duty, who refused to provide her a granddaughter like all her friend's families all the back of it, Alice had gathered that this woman's daughter had a particular lifestyle that she disapproved of but for the life of it, she couldn't really glean exactly what it was. Alice had made mental notes that this woman's mental health might not be all that it should be. She noticed that, on the mantlepiece which was crowded out by bric a brac, there wasn't one framed photograph. This had struck her as odd.

As Alice reflected on the scene in retrospect, this moment had been a misleadingly normal moment of her day when compared with what was to follow.

As John sat on his own at the dinner table in the digs, he was meditating on his life, wondering where it was taking him. There were various constants in his life which oriented him in his sense of direction. He was energised and confirmed in his values by the way the political establishment hated his guts but, thanks to the solid support of the brethren, meant that he was becoming untouchable. His relationship with the women in his life had always been problematic and this was starting to resolve itself for the better. His relationship with George had improved out of all recognition now that she had a female lover and its knock on effect on Charlie and Joseph was instantly strange development had brought on that curious development, the female friends in his life. From time to time, Nikki and Helen and their friends intersected with his life, giving him very warm sisterly support, the mutual admiration society that he had formed with Nikki being a guiding beacon. Most unusually for him, he had agreed to become a sperm donor for Nikki and Helen which gave him the chance to unselfishly help his friends. He knew that this was going to be the one and only involvement in his friend's family plans beyond their comfortable, easy going friendship. The trouble was that they floated in and out of his life and so did their friends. No matter how comfortable they were with each other, John couldn't get away from the feeling that they were different species and it mildly bothered him. At the end of the day, he was a hot blooded heterosexual male and he had his own needs to consider. This had always been driving principle as much as his passionate lifelong devotion to justice...

"John, you're just the person I wanted to see. I can see that you're a million miles away from here," called out a familiar voice from out of the distant haze of John's meditation.

"In my thoughts only, Monty. I have now landed back on earth,"John dryly observed.

"There's a bit of a fix that's come up. I've just been told that Newton's been laid up with an ankle injury. He was carried away with one of his flights of oratory when he was lecturing the up and coming judges at Warwick University only he walked off the stage."

"Talk about riding for a fall, "John retorted, making an effort to straighten his face after his first chuckle at the mental image conjored up."There but the Grace of God went John Deed."

"You can see where this is going. The University is crying out for a fill in judge who can grab the reins of a bolted horse at short notice. I must assure you," hastened Monty remembering John's previous exile there. "This is not some devious scheme to spirit you out of the way. You know by now that Joseph and I are quite able to repel the forces of reaction and after the severe drubbing that they've had at our hands with the able assistance of Nikki and Helen and their charming friends, they wouldn't dare try it goes without saying that the brethren will cover your load."

John pondered his options briefly and went for it. He had got to trust Monty implicitly by now. It also crossed his mind that this would fit in with the strategy that he and Jo had worked out of taking things slowly. Absence makes the heart grow fonder or so he thought of pastures new was an attractive one, especially as he knew Newton would be champing at the bit to get up on his podium again and that their approaches to the law were pretty the whole, accepting the offer was a sound choice.

"I accept, Monty. From what I recall, there's nothing too earth shattering in the trials I've got listed that another judge couldn't handle."

"Good man," Monty replied, beaming all over his face. "Have you eaten yet?"

"To be honest. I quite forgot but I'm happy to join you for dinner."

The sense of easy familiarity and the consciousness of his own niche in the great scheme of things made for a congenial atmosphere at the end of the day.


	11. Chapter 11

**Scene Eleven**

On a Saturday morning when Jo was at a loose end, she loved the feel of strolling down the country lane to the village store. The sun's brightness lacked the fire of the scorching days of summer but maintained a warm autumnal glow while the leaves on the trees turned to that attractive many-hued colours of green turning to gold and hadn't yet fallen from the trees in any number. She felt as if she was a country girl at heart on days like this who had to earn her living in the great metropolis. She ambled slowly towards the store which was the compendium of country ways as well as odd out of the way items that superstores either didn't stock or only sold in half dozen plastic packages. She was at a loose end this weekend as John had been detailed to fill in at short notice for a lecturer at Warwick University, being the obvious choice as he'd once been exiled there to keep him out of was one of those things, they both agreed upon, as both weren't going to push togetherness onto their agenda too impatiently.

Unknown to her, a new visitor to the village was cursing herself to find that she'd run out of fags and she needed a new lighter and a carton of milk. Cursing, she slung on her leather jacket and strode masterfully down the lane. She wondered if the store could lay in a regular order of guitar strings but she reckoned she would have to work on that wasn't in the best mood as her idea of getting away to the country had already started to lose some of its charm. She stomped off out of her estate and down the lane. She could be grateful for one thing, she supposed. The amount of walking she'd done since her arrival had at least toned her body and freshened her complexion. Living in some dump in London had made her skin feel grimy and her lungs coated with carbon. Nowadays, despite her cigarette intake, she felt physically better about herself even if she felt down. She strode into the shop without thinking and collided with some posh looking country woman wearing a nice respectable blue coat.

"Hey, watch where you're going," Jo exclaimed with some force when a solid object collided with her just when she was opening the door to the village shop, jerking her out of her reverie.

"I might ask you the same question. We're only after the same errand," this stranger replied with cool assurance, looking Jo directly in the eye. It unsettled her as this woman ought to have been either more angry or more apologetic.

"Perhaps we'd both better get through the door so we both get what we want,"Jo replied more cooly than she ought to have done. She was certainly capable of fighting a verbal argument, this being the tools of her trade but for some reason she wasn't in a fighting mood.

When they were both in the shop, neither had the inclination to dive straight for what they wanted. After all, this wasn't like a city convenience store overflowing with packets of crisps, soft drinks and copies of the Sun. The stranger studied this posh woman very closely, being aware that her own origins weren't exactly proletarian. She'd erected this tautly restrained aggressive front to fend off those who might get at her and normally, this type of woman triggered off her defences. Somehow, this woman didn't provoke this reaction as there was something about her that started the wheels turning in her mind, something she couldn't put her finger on.

"Have you lived here long," she asked in her attempt at polite conversation, something she didn't normally go in for.

"I've lived here for ages except for a spell up North. I came here when I got married and stayed here even after he died and my sons moved away," Jo said, words tumbling faster from her mouth quicker than she'd planned. Normally, she was reserved when meeting strangers for the first time, especially those she'd met in not the easiest of circumstances.

"You make it sound like they still wear clogs and the mills are still open," the other woman replied with a smile that wasn't unfriendly and wasn't mocking her. "I've travelled all over the place in my time before I put down roots here three weeks back. I'm even starting to like the dawn chorus."

Suddenly, revelation dawned. Her thought whizzed back a million miles and she was once again in the school playground, a new girl in this strict grammar school, feeling very lonely, anonymous and plain in her brand new school uniform of grey tunic and white blouse. From out of nowhere, this dark-haired girl took pity on her. She smiled as she greeted her in her flighty and self-assured tone of voice and offered her a finger of Kit-Kat from out of its silver wrapper. That kindly gesture meant a lot to Jo as perfect strangers whizzed past her, intent on their own conversations and locking her out of the picture, her a new girl. She immediately started chatting to this girl who had all the self-confidence that Jo lacked. She could have attached herself to any of the other girls but picked Jo out of the crowd. That won Jo over immediately and, as someone who felt shy about bringing friends home from school, she made an exception of Mel. From then on, when they were in a situation away from the regimental uniformity of classrooms, echoing bare corridors and school assemblies, their intimate chats became important. Right from the start, they knew that they were as different as chalk was from cheese. When Jo would grow up, she would have a serious career, would marry a good man and would have two children and live in a nice house. Mel told her that having husbands was silly as they would tie her down from any of a fast changing array of fantasy ideas she had of herself, all more exciting than Jo's as yet prosaic unformed career path. Jo wistfully conjured up pictures in her mind of what her friend would do and halfway wanted to share this future but knew that she was too sensible,that it would never be for her. Thus it was that Jo found herself practising the cello which expressed her personality perfectly in being able to shape the orchestral sounds and stay in the background. Mel, of course, got herself a flashy Cherry red Gibson guitar and got a kick out of the racket she created while somehow managing to scrape through her exams by the skin of her teeth. There was that one moment when their worlds might have coincided when Jo was cajoled to take the place of the bass player that Mel had had a bustup with and Jo took her place in a performance in the local pub. To her shame, Jo had frantically backed out of becoming a permanent member of the band and that was the end of their friendship. When they left school, each went their separate ways...until today.

"I know you,"Jo breathed."We were at school 're Mel Bridges, aren't you."

"Got it in one,"grinned the other woman with that cheeky manner that instantly endeared herself to Jo all over was obvious to Jo that Mel had gone through the same process of time travel as she had just done. There were no recriminations for that most shaming of events which, when she thought about it, had caused her to pursue her numerous legal causes. She had suppressed the thought that all these years, she might have been compensation for her earlier perceived act of cowardice when she was young and impressionable. She had thought that John was the driving force in her career and, yes he was important, but she realised now that he wasn't the only cause. "I've just come into the area."

"That's great," Jo enthused as they started to chat away amongst themselves, oblivious of the rest of the shop except for getting the items they wanted.

"I was wondering," Jo said hesitantly. "Have you got to go off anywhere special?"

"Not if you have any other ideas,"Mel said promptly in her direct fashion.

"Good then. If you're interested, there's a comfy tea-shop along the way. I always go there to mellow out."

"You've really joined the country set,"joked Mel. "Haven't I got to put on a sensible dress and a flowered hat before I get let in. It really isn't my scene you know."

"Just for once in your life, you follow my idea. It's only fair that you do.I spent half a lifetime following your madcap ideas. In any case, nobody will take a second glance at you."

Jo's mixture of more forceful leadership than Mel remembered her capable of and gentle persuasion did the trick. She was secretly amused at the contrasts in appearance, she in her rock chick getup and Jo in her knee-length blue overcoat and flat shoes. Ah well, it will be a new experience, she thought.

The two women strolled past the village pub, the post office and finally came to the tea shop, the window displayed with home made cakes. The old-fashioned front doorbell jingled to announce their entrance and instantly the white painted room with large windows either side conveyed the sense of stillness that Mel picked up on. Everyone smiled benignly at their entrance which brought out the well-concealed quiet side of Mel. Decorously enough, the two women asked the grey haired woman on the counter for a pot of tea and home made cakes and Mel had lived just long enough in the country not to expect fast takeaway service. Together, they found a table for two and each woman now fully had the time and space to absorb the presence of the other.

"So, how does the country woman come to live her life?"

"Oh, you know me, a glutton for work and respectability. I qualified as a barrister, got married and had two sons. My husband died a number of years ago, unfortunately..."

"I'm really sorry Jo,"Mel said instantly.

"That was a long time ago, sons are away at university and it feels that I've come round full circle being a single woman with the world at my feet."

The glint of light in Jo's blue eyes, the way her short fair hair curled and her fresh complexion conveyed a sense of real happiness and it made Mel truly glad for her. She remembered how Jo's very presence used to lift her out of one of her dark moods. She had obviously grown, matured from the girl that she used to be but she had not changed to that extent. She decided that she really liked this woman.. Right now, a shaft of sunlight seemed to bathe her in a golden glow and the dark-haired woman felt to her core that they had the chance of reconnecting their sundered friendship. They had so much to catch up on.

"But what about you?" Jo asked in her kindest, softest tones. It made Mel feel uncomfortable as life hadn't dealt with her that kindly.

"I've nowhere carved out the solid career that you have," Mel answered in disconsolate tones from years of struggle to live her dreams. "You know that I tried to make it with my rock and roll band?"

"I remember it so well. I used to buy copies of Melody Maker wondering if I'd see you on the front page," breathed Jo in awestruck tones that harked back to her adolescence. The lookof unabashed admiration in Jo's eyes touched Mel and warmed up her none too certain self-esteem

"I tried to make it," Mel said slowly. "We started out being in the right place at the right time as we ended up as punk rockers. We were into leather as you know so all we needed to do was refurbish our repertoire from rock and roll music. The trouble was that four hormonal women travelling around in the same van the length and breadth of the motorways were going to clash like crazy. You saw me argue with the bass player that night you came round and sat in..."

Mel stopped abruptly as she realised that her freewheeling reminiscences bumped up against the emotional road accident in their lives that caused the parting of their ways. She'd got very emotional at Jo's seeming betrayal which had eaten away at her emotional insides for years and she'd only just considered for the first time in her life what it might have meant for Jo. She desperately needed closure on that traumatic event and both women grabbed at the same chance to achieve this.

"I remember," breathed Jo with unashamed enthusiasm. "That was one of the magic nights of my life. I loved playing with you in a rock and roll band. My cello training happened to fall into place miraculously thanks to the amazing racket you were making on your guitar and the way the drummer was bashing hell out of her kit."

"I felt the same way," Mel answered with a light of enthusiasm in her eyes, old memories and feelings gradually stirring. She felt, once again that she was treading footsteps into virgin white snow and her dearest friend was with her. A wave of emotion swept through her system that Jo still remembered that magic night that way. The next moment, she flinched as she knew only too well half the truth of how the storyline went but she feared to know of Jo's reactions.

"It was only the morning after when some primal fear set in that I was being too daring, that throwing off restraints was risky and dangerous that I ended up letting you down. I've never forgotten the look in your eyes when I did that. I bought a half bottle of whisky from the off licence and got drunk on my own for the first time in my life." Jo continued in a disconsolate tone of voice. "It was something I needed to do to forget everything. The only way I could atone for what I'd done to you was never to make any more compromises and betrayals so I became a campaigning barrister."

"And now you've proved yourself to yourself and we meet again. We've come round full circle,so what then?" Mel said with an enigmatic wistful smile on her face. A sudden ray of sunlight shone through the window and illuminated Mel's the first time, Jo took in the other woman's brown, slightly wilfully curly shoulder length hair, her deep brown eyes and slightly curved nose. Lines of age and a hard life had sculptured her face but her normally feisty manner had been shed like a protective garment. She was still the bold, lively woman she had ever been, the one who complemented Jo's natural diffidence. Their eyes made contact.

"It means I don't make the same mistake, second time around," Jo replied crisply.

"That's what I wanted you to say. It means that we'll meet again."

"But of course," Jo said with perfect poise while the old ladies sipped their tea and chattered away inconsequentially to themselves.


	12. Chapter 12

**Scene Twelve**

Changes were to take place in Karen and Beth's life as well. A letter had been dropped into the outside letter box of their block of flats that Karen opened one day after coming off a particularly busy shift at St Mary's. She had been looking forward to a night in with her lover only the untidy script on the letter brought her up short. The miracle was that it hadn't been addressed to her old address where she had lived with Fenner and been binned by the new occupant or hadn't been readdressed to her present address but to the luxury Docklands flat where she'd lived on her own or the terraced house where she'd done her best to drink herself to death. She knew just who it was who had come back into her life, the one man whose presence couldn't be easily brushed aside. As Beth breezed in, she saw her partner sitting at the table and her fixed gaze was concentrated on the single sheet of paper. She sensed trouble straightaway as her partner was oblivious to everything else.

"What's wrong darling?" she asked. Beth pitched her voice just at the level of tender concern with not too much shading into anxiety.

"My son Ross is the matter," said Karen in a hard, tight tone of voice, obviously seeking control over a multitude of inexpressible feelings. "Does it shock you that I've never mentioned his existence before? That's not how mothers are supposed to behave."

_'Those aren't her words_,'' Beth thought instantly as she felt for the right words to deal with her lover's deeply ingrained feelings of guilt as she turned away from her and looked out the window. She was seriously worried that her lover was going to martyr herself by shedding her new identity for no good reason. It was the very thing that had made herself real and open to love.

"I never believe in jumping to conclusions," Beth pronounced in a manner that was both definite and reassuring. "It's just that this is a side of you I've never come across before. Perhaps you care to tell me about him so I can understand?"

The kind compassionate words had their effect. It took a little weight off Karen's shoulders as it meant that, whatever her faults as a mother, Beth would hear her sympathetically. She had been edged away from throwing herself off the precipice, emotionally speaking. She could just about cope with the situation if that mellifluous sounding voice continued to wrap itself around her from behind. She would either grab the chance right now to talk about her past or give up forever. As she mentally stepped up to the mark, she found it peculiar to talk about a stranger whose only point of contact with her was that she shared the same body. She did things differently then .

"I'll try, Beth. Ross is so like his father who I met soon after I'd joined the WRAF when I was seventeen at one of the dances that they fixed up, all very incestuous. He was of one of those good-looking irresponsible charmers and I ended up pregnant. I wasn't with him long and ended up bringing up Ross on my own."

Beth felt all the weight of bitterness in her lover's tired voice, of all the struggles she had gone through to get along in this world and being forever defensive as a working mother, that she wasn't being a good parent, that she wasn't 'there for him.'

"I really don't know, now I come to think about it, how I held down a job of work and tried to be a good mother. All the time I was working, I felt that I somehow wasn't 'there for him,'" Karen mused, her eyes looking far back into the past out of the window of her present, confirming her partner's train of thought. "I suppose the best way of describing him is that he has the same big blue eyes as I have and, boy did he learn how to use them. If I couldn't see through the men I lived with, how could I see that Ross would learn to make me responsible for all the failures in his life. Finally, he went off to university, me thinking that he'd learn to stand on his own two feet and get the chance to make something of himself only he fell in with an irresponsible 'perpetual party' set whose parents were rolling in money, fell behind with his coursework and dropped out of university. We had a big fallout over that and I haven't seen him since then, since I don't know how long..."

Beth felt rather than saw her partner's eyes flit round their flat, and her whole manner became agitated, nervous. It was obvious that Karen was in danger of becoming the archetypal guilt-ridden had to intervene more definitely before it was too late.

"You have to remember that your son will be a guest in our flat, darling. He won't know the changes you've been going through but he'll just have to get used to it."

Once again, Beth's clear-spoken tones cut through all the strangulating tentacles of feelings of guilt. Karen started pacing back and forth around the flat. The faster she walked, the more she started to walk her feelings out of her system. Finally, she turned round and stopped and the woman that Beth had grown to love was back with her again.

"You're right, Beth. Where the hell was he when I was plastered all over the press as a murderer and those right-thinking ex-neighbours graffitied my front door?" Karen snapped, replacing the silver framed photograph of Beth back on the mantlepiece that she was on the point of concealing in a drawer. She placed the photo on display and looked at it proudly. It was taken in the park and an overhanging branch of a tree held a pattern of green summer leaves to frame her lover's exquisite face and the top half of her shapely body. Finally, Karen smiled for the first time this morning. In that nightmare trip down the ages that she'd just travelled at express speed, somehow Beth had stuck with her.

"I've been in danger of being really stupid. It's not the first time he's experienced being introduced to a new partner. This time around, he's going to meet the both of us, like it or not and he's going to have to realise that you're worth way more than them all of them put together."

"He ought to be very proud of you, the same way I am, darling,"Beth said softly, her arms outstretched waiting for Karen to melt into her arms. The sudden moment of serenity and calm that coursed through Karen's system made that perfectly shaped face, framed by her black bob cut stay forever before her eyes till their lips and bodies met. During their long embrace, Beth rested her hands on her lover's shoulders. She was sure that Karen's neck muscles would have felt way too tight, five minutes deftly unbuttoned the top few buttons started to gently stroke the soft skin and soothe away her cares. Karen sighed with happiness as she gently embraced her lover.

Finally, a half hour late, there came the ring of the door buzzer and Karen pulled the front door open. Instantly, there was a strained silence.

"Hi, mum," came the medium pitched voice, not much deeper than Karen's own.

Behind her, Beth looked with curiosity at the prospect of Karen's fruitfulness, wondering just what aspect of Karen would appear before her eyes..

The young man was dressed in worn jeans, trainers and a quilted jacket. His light brown hair was tousled, fell over his forehead and curled over his ears. Even the stubble on his face didn't conceal the fresh faced cheeks and his blue eyes..He slung off the rucksack and dropped it on the floor.

"Come in and have a cup of tea," Karen offered, appearing disturbingly relaxed to the young man. He'd expected her to be nervously mumsy as he'd been, coming home frrom university.

"There's a slight problem," came the slightly hesitant voice and downcast eyes. "I need a fiver for the taxi and I'm short of spare change. I'll pay you back at the end of the week, honest."

The glib words struck the wrong note like a tuning fork. They came out far too quickly for Beth's liking. Karen's pursed lips and angry expression showed that she was being conned blind but parental obligation couldn't be denied - on this occasion. She reached for her handbag and stuffed the note in his hand and let Ross nip back to pay the taxi. God knows what he'd said to the taxi driver to be let out in the first place, both women wondered.

"Well, perhaps we can catch up with each other after the past few years," exclaimed Karen with an artificial smile fixed on her didn't want hostilities to start on not the most important issue around.

"Oh you know, mum. I've been doing a bit of this and that. I've been really busy. You know how it you heard anything of Dad? He did promise he'd keep in touch."

"I'm afraid I've not heard from him in years," Karen said shortly..

"It's a shame," continued Ross, blithly ignoring the fact that he'd never paid a bean in maintenance in years, much less sent a birthday card. "Still, I remember the old days. He used to take me to football matches, right? He was the life and soul of the party."

Karen didn't know how to respond to the stranger's wierdly distorted memory. It angered her that Ross either took for granted or didn't remember all her day to day drudgery while he remembered the very occasional glamour event that suited his father's purposes. Already, she started to clench her again, her natural instincts were at odds with her sense of duty, a conflict that she'd thought she'd seen the back of once and for all.

"That's as maybe but I'm more interested in what you're doing.I've not heard from you in ages," Karen said with that maternal concern in her voice that Ross found cloying and defensive. It prompted him to try and blag his way through the situation.

"Let's put it this way, I'm looking at all sorts of ideas. I don't want to end up being swallowed up in the rat race too early."

The sheer vagueness of the reply only got Karen worried more and more. Probably the truth of the matter was that Ross was unemployed and was dossing around. He had never been noted for facing up to his responsibilities. She could recall going down to the local comprehensive and negotiating a schedule with his long suffering year teacher a schedule of him catching up with overdue homework and coursework and spending evenings standing over him till; the work was done. It was only that way that he'd gone into the sixth form. She remembered the huge feeling of relief of having seen him through that perilous turning point in his life. She searched for an alternative topic of conversation and suddenly, Beth appeared out of the narrow perspective of her vision that had been focussed on her son.

"I'm forgetting my manners, Ross. This is Beth Pritchard, my dearest friend, partner and lover. You'll be seeing a lot of her if you stick around here," Karen said with enthusiasm and a touch of defiance. Ross ignored that and carried on the straight line

tracks of past experiences without deviation.

"You don't think she'll last any longer than the others. Let's face it, mum, you use up men like Kleenex tissues," Ross said dismissively in tones that touched a raw nerve with Karen. Her loyalty battled with her determination not to be the first of them to start an argument. Jesus, all these months of living with Beth felt so relaxing and stress free, let alone the high sexual content.

"That's where you're wrong. Anyone can change," Karen said in precisely articulated tones with that precisely raised eyebrow that really wound Ross up. He remembered the way she deployed that dismissive gesture over the years in arguments about what he was supposed to be doing. She went out every day being superwoman and didn't understand feelings, or so he thought.

"For a start, she's anything but one of the smooth talking charmers I've ended up with. Her good word is actually worth something and her kind-heartedness and loyalty can't be beaten. This relationship is for the long haul, I can assure you."

"I'm the lucky one as well, Ross. I'm a high powered journalist for the Independent and, believe you me, your mother sets the bar high in terms of what to jump over," Beth said in quiet tones that unnerved Ross. He'd been used to loud men who shouted the odds and this woman was disturbingly different.

"I'm sure you'll go off mum. It can't last. She can't change the habits of a lifetime," Ross said. It was the first time he'd looked this woman in the eye. Right from the word go, he realised that she wasn't the weak one that he could work his way around.

"Your problem, Ross is that you've been away for a very long time," Beth said in controlled firm tones with no hint of either anger or apology. "We've been together for a year so far but we know how solid we are. I've had other relationships before so I know what I'm talking about. Believe me when I say it that if I could marry your mother, I'd do it. I've never felt that way before."

"You're only talking about women."

"Does that matter? Are straight relationships that different?" Beth cracked back with a forcefulness that impressed Karen if nothing couldn't help thinking that if only she'd had that solid support years ago, perhaps Ross would have turned out differently.

"We're about to have dinner, Ross. You'll be most welcome to stay if you want to," Karen intervened, assuming the voice of a mother can't feed her child when he calls round, what can she do for him, her guilty conscience reproached her in the unquestioning words of mothers down the ages.

Ross gave a surly nod in the manner of modern teenagers. He hadn't said to his mother that regular meals and eating at the table had been a thing of the past for a long time.

The two women bustled and clattered away in the kitchen while the young man lounged on the settee. He did give mum full marks for the cool, wide screen TV and he clicked on the remote control to watch daytime television. In the kitchen, the two women winced at the choice of programme which was the mindless rubbish which they both loathed. Beth was conflicted between her growing dislike for this inconsiderate young man, her reluctance to speak her mind for Karen's sake as he was, after all, her son, and the shrinking feeling that their life together was being intruded on and the uneasy suspicion that, having avoided the life of 'happy families' perhaps she was being too prissy. it all built up inside her as she drove her favourite kitchen knife through the layers of the onion she was slicing. Eventually, the words she had been suppressing burst forth.

"How long is he staying, Karen?"

"I'm getting as pissed off with that spoilt brat as you are. Leave it to me."

It was when dinner was served that the first sparks started to fly.

"Pass the meal over, mum. This programme is great," ordered Ross with that particular tone which caused the words 'male arrogance' to light up in Karen's overheating mind. In that moment, her feelings of outrage spilled over the top of the dam she had constructed to try and make peace.

"You'll have your dinner at the table, like we always do,"Karen said in frosty tones. Instantly, she regretted her choice of words as realised that it was the worst possible argument she could have used.

"I'm not a child anymore. I'm used to doing my own thing," came the sulky response. It was too much of a drag to tear his concentration away from the TV screen.

"Perhaps at your flat but not here. When in Rome, you do as the Romans do. Besides," added Karen getting seriously worried by the way she was talking in cliches. "I remember how clumsy you are and eating dinner at the table is in avoiding you spilling food on the carpet. We're houseproud, you know."

"Houseproud? That says everything I've always hated about you, mum," Ross replied in aggressive tones. "You've always been ambitious to get to the top and so you have, wing governor at Larkhall prison."

"Don't you read the papers or listen to the news, Ross?" Karen said in an ominously quiet tone of voice. Beth despaired at this lad's crass insensitivity and wondered just how far her partner could retain her iron self-control. Ross just took this to be a simple question and, no, he didn't get involved in something as boring and pointless as the news.

"No mum. Should I?"

"If you'd followed the news, you'd have heard that I was accused of a hit and run murder. I lost my job and I lost my flat that I'd worked for. My car was stuck in a police pound. I lost my job and ended up on the dole in a crummy flat with ignorant bigots painting murderer on my front door. Only because really kind friends stuck with me and fought it out in the Old Bailey was I acquitted and the real murderer found. I'm only back on my feet and, yes, thanks to Beth and me getting a job as a nurse in St Mary's hospital. My career in the prison service has been wrecked even if I wanted my job back after I was dumped on. I warn you not to ever give me any self-pityiing crap, Ross, or you'll regret it."

Though Karen reined in her natural tendency to scream and yell at her son, a jolt of electric tension flashed across the room. Oh help,mum's changed, Ross thought this moment, his phone started bleeping. He grabbed at it and heard the message he'd been waiting for. He got to his feet and grabbed at the nearest excuse to hand.

"I'd better get some fresh air. There's a friend I wanted to see. Be back later."

With that, he scuttled out of the door, leaving his bag on the ground. Just like Ross, Karen thought, leave everyone making guessing games, just like your father . Seconds after the door closed and the tension was still flashing round the room, Karen's phone bleeped and she saw that it was Nikki. Thank God, Karen thought to herself, they both need some of Nikki's level headed thinking.


	13. Chapter 13

**Scene Thirteen**

A/N: Figures from the Howard League of Penal Reform

"Am I glad to hear you,"Nikki heard Karen exclaim down the phone. She was very touched to hear her friend give such a ringing endorsement of the value of her company, even if it were from afar. "You couldn't have picked a better time to phone than right now."

"Er, I haven't phoned for any particular reason," Nikki confessed almost guiltily. "I've been working away at home on a work project and I got bored so I thought I'd phone you up for a chat. What's happened?"

It dawned on Nikki that there might be another reason for Karen's heartfelt greeting that had nothing to do with her. She mentally filed away her delegated area of planning for the Howard League of Prison Reform AGM as something that could be dealt with better after a change of mental scenery. Helen picked up the vibrations as if she'd tuned in to the radiowaves and came out of what was going to be the bedroom for their baby. She laid her arms on Nikki's shoulders, letting her fingers trail down to the bare patch of skin underneath her unbuttoned shirt, her natural inquisitiveness combining with her tender-heartedness towards the world in general.

"I really don't want to lay a bad trip on you just when you are prospective parents but we're just recovering from the visit by my son."

"To be honest, I never realised you had a son," Nikki confessed, speaking before giving herself a proper chance to think. She felt rather than heard the shocked response down the other end of the phone. Well done, Nikki, speak first and think later as usual. Her heart was in her stomach as she scrabbled around for words to make up for her blunder.

"I mean, let's put it this way. I know you went through a whole load of shit with Fenner and he wasn't the only bastard ex in your life. Yvonne once clued me in to her own bad experiences."

"I went out for a drink with Yvonne once. Guess women talk," Karen said drily, knowing just how much Nikki could get to know.

" I assumed you wanted to draw a line under the past and live life to the fullest with Beth. I guess you don't choose your sons, or not normally."

"You're all right, Nikki. I've only had my shortcomings as a mother rubbed in my face by my waster of a son. He's just gone out and left his stuff. I haven't got the foggiest idea if he'll come back in an hour's time, in the middle of the night or whatever."

"Jesus, is that what Helen and I have to look forward to? I mean I'm sorry if you're being messed around."

"I keep trying to tell myself that if only I had a partner like Helen, he'd amount to myself but in the middle of the night, I can't help waking up in the middle of the night and think differently."

Nikki fell silent at the way her friends final words were edged with desolation. She didn't know what to say that weren't well meaning empty platitudes. Of course she knew that Beth would do her level best to comfort and support Karen but she, Nikki, Helen and all their friends were painfully short on practical experience of what to do with teenagers going off the rails where the ineradicable suspicion remained that somehow, something one had done or failed to have done to avert it. No one knew better than Nikki about assuming personal responsibility but this was a strength only where there was practical and emotional experience to draw upon. For the first time, it crossed her mind how her parents might have felt when she'd been sent down for murder. She made a mental note to talk to them next time she and Helen met them.

"I wish I could say something to make you feel better," Nikki said at last, feeling totally inadequate.

"I may need your help in a more practical fashion Nikki," Karen replied, consciously trying to be positive."I might need a bouncer or someone who can give him an earful if I can't deal with him. I get a nasty feeling about what he might be getting up to. You get back to your project and keep Helen company. I'll deal with him- somehow," came Karen's parting message. "It's been nice talking to you. See you around."

"I'll do my best if you need help, Meanwhile take care, Karen," Nikki urged softly.

As Nikki put her phone down, her mind was inevitably being dragged back to the depressing set of figures in front of her on the screen of her recently acquired laptop computer. By 2003, the average number of men, women and children in prison was set to rise to in excess of 79,000 instead of the previously projected figure of 73,000. It had risen in inexorable stages from a figure of 42,000 in 1993. She cast her mind back to the period when she had featured as an item on these statistics and remembered first entering Larkhall Prison in May 1997 and only on Fri Nov 24th 2000 did she cease to be a statistic. Nikki smiled cynically to herself, having recalled having been held on remand for months before then but perhaps, to the compilers of statistics, being held 'on remand' didn't count.

As she thought further about the problem, biro in hand, she gazed out beyond the walls of their comfortable flat, over the rooftops of London and into the prisons of modern day Britain.

She couldn't help feeling that the worthy education programmes were going to get squeezed by the sheer logistics of prisons whose every square inch of space was going to get used up and the basics of locking up prisoners would take over, not by any reactionary plan but by sheer 'necessity.'

"What's on your mind babes?" a soft Scottish voice said behind her. "I can tell by the way you're fiddling with your biro that you've a hell of a lot on your mind."

Nikki gave out a satisfied sigh as she felt Helen's shapely fingers stroke her tense shoulders lightly and seek to massage the tension out of her body. It wasn't a direct answer to her problem but the simple physical comfort gave her the feeling that she might not be banging her head against a brick wall. She leaned her head backwards and the back of her head rested against her partner's stomach. Helen crouched down and her hand wound themselves round Nikki's body while she nuzzled the back of Nikki's sensation of physical comfort reached deeply into her soul, something which she had grown to openly acknowledge. These days, she never minded being the soppy type- she could easily live with it.

"Hmmn, I needed that darling," she murmured. "Let's just stay like this awhile."

Very gently, Helen rocked Nikki in her arms and let the peace and quiet surround them. There was no hurry in their lives right now. Eventually, Nikki turned round to face her partner and laid her right hand in Helen's.

"I'd better tell it as it is. I've got a work related problem and the answer just might be up your street."

"How can I help?" Helen said, putting her hand to her mouth . She had thought that Nikki was getting on so well in her job. "I'll do my best."

"It's not what you think.I get on great with the gang at my place, especially Paul. It's a technical matter. You don't mind dusting down your Home Office hat and putting it on just for once?"

There was a pleading look in Nikki's eyes that Helen picked up on straightaway as she pointed to the problem. There had been an unspoken agreement between the two women that Nikki would be given her head in her studies of the prison system while Helen would give emotional encouragement. Nikki had respected Helen's strong feeling that she had never wanted to touch the prison service with a bargepole and besides, was moving forward with her own career.

"You must be feeling really desperate to want my help." she said impulsively and then, spotting her partner's raised eyebrows and look of disappointment in her eyes, leaped onwards to clarify. "I know and you know about me not wanting to interfere. You tell me all, babes."

Nikki smiled and clicked on the mouse. The screen came to life and a neat set of columns and rows replaced the screensaver. It showed consecutive years prison population, neatly broken down into categories and totals set out at the bottom. They told their grim story.

"Shit. I didn't know things were getting that bad," exclaimed forgotten memories came back to her mind of how positively she'd started off her second spell of work for the Prison Service. She remembered driving her Pugeot up the Motorway, her clipboard and her finely tuned perspectives at the ready. She hadn't been solely inspired by tender images of her lover, languishing behind bars at Larkhall and waiting for her return. The thrill of the chase in hunting down unwelcome facts and sweeping away the cobwebs of musty secrets had driven her onwards.

"I did a study once for the Home Office of why there were so many women lifers in Britain compared with the rest of Europe. Part of my study dealt with similar problems in reoffending . You remember when I got the job as a Home Office professional, I only made infrequent visits to Larkhall to begin with. I put my heart and soul into slogging round Holloway, Larkhall and round some of the prisons outside the London area. The Home Office thanked me very nicely for my report. On the strength of that, I got my promotion and started up the Lifer's Unit at Larkhall to put my ideas into practice," Helen spoke eagerly, fond memories of that period giving her the feeling of being personally validated.

"That was my first thought," said Nikki in a flat tone of voice. "If there is anything out there in which I have total confidence, it's you and your 's where I hit the first problem head on."

Helen took in a deep breath as the horrible truth started to sink in. She remembered as if it were yesterday the smiles of the smart suited Home Office minister who had thanked her so profusely for her 'pioneering work' her 'innovative approach' and how she'd 'pulled no punches.' After all the misery and isolation of all the backstabbing bastards at Larkhall Prison, she'd been so thankful for acceptance of her progressive politics. She'd really thought she was making a mark, that she had really been getting somewhere in her life.

"What the bloody hell's happened, Nikki? I put my heart and soul into it. I spent so many nights here at this very table, writing my report and polishing it up.I wanted so much for it to be objective, like the very best damned essay I'd ever done in my life. An A+ isn't unreasonable to expect. I could even describe the look of the manilla folder I handed in. It doesn't make sense for me to get my promotion out of it, to be given the chance of practically implementing my conclusions if it can't be used as a resource. I'm not claiming I should win the Nobel Peace prize for it. All I ask for is some acknowledgement, not for myself but for others."

Helen's ragged, unshaped words tore at Nikki's large heart. She knew that her lover had strong feelings of being done down, of not getting justice for herself only she had transformed this to a strong desire to fight injustice everywhere. She could have become bitter and selfish but her tender nature had resisted was most shocking as Nikki saw the scene through Helen's eyes was the combination of Helen's touching pleasure and joy at public acknowledgement not seeing the cynical smiles that had resolved to bury the report. It was Nikki's turn to wrap her arms round her lover and clasp her head to her breasts.

"You're talking about the Home Office, darling, the same organisation that shredded Karen's file on Fenner and the same organisation that John and his friends are battling with. Think of the stories he's told us. That pile is an accumulation of ancient wickedness, buried secrets and the levwel of low conniving that even we can't conceive of. Thinking of the whole thing in cold blood, you were shunted sideways out of harm's way. God knows your promotion was down to sheer bloody hard work, professionalism and putting yourself out on the line but what happened was only the flipside of how Karen was done over."

Nikki's soft, tender words and the soft feel of her arms all made Helen know how fiercely her lover was batting for her but gently telling the truth as time and events had stripped her illusions from her, there was no point in trying to plaster them back into place with well-meaning lies. Nikki felt Helen's dumb nod against the feel of her body. Finally, she raised her head and Nikki ever so softly kissed the tears out of her eyes.

"So where do we go from here?"

"The facts are that I can't get my hands on the bloody thing. I've tried, Paul has tried but the Home Office has stonewalled. Short of there being a burglary or a revolution, we're stuck."

Helen reached over to the mouse and brought up the screen again with the figures. She had to admit that there wasn't a ghost of a chance of reconstructing the memory wasn't that good. There was as much chance of recreating an Egyptian urn from shattered fragments in an archaeological dig.

"It's the rates of reoffending that's starting to get to me," Nikki continued. "I know there are big dangers of getting carried away with facts and figures, wide screen academic treatises that drag you in and really make you feel that you're up with them. That's why I've always wanted to get off my arse, out of the office and go round prisons. I've seen things with my own eyes, got to talk to prisoners and prison officers and used my own ability to relate to people, going back to basics as it were."

Helen sat transfixed by Nikki's words. It brought home so vividly how Nikki was walking in the footprints of the path that she'd once trod. It reinforced the powerful bonds between them.

"We're going to have to bite the bullet and see if there is any research out there that will help. I don't think I'm unique in working this area of activity. I'm not wrong am I?"

It didn't take rocket science for Helen to deduce from her partner's slumped shoulders and air of despondency that she might not be so unique after all. She waited patiently for her partner to reply.

"You might not realise it, darling, but I've searched the furthest reaches of the net and, believe it or not, there isn't anything out there. You might have thought that my own organisation would turn up something but unfortunately, the focus has been on the big picture or small scale studies and what I need has disappeared into a black hole or doesn't exist. That's what has been getting to me."

Helen's mind was now whizzing full speed away from the biology of pregnancy and what sort of mothers they would be. There must be an answer if the two of them devoted the brain power to it.

"Let's think laterally. I'll get it if I push hard enough at it," mused Helen, a faraway look in her eyes. Nikki squeezed her hand in silent support.

"I've got it, I've got it. What about the Universities? There must be some young, idealistic campaigner who has done some sort of study."

"I thought that students spend all their money getting obliterated every night of the week," muttered Nikki cynically, on the rare occasional when a dark mood swept over her.

"You mean, like female cons spend all their time scrratching their eyes out, watch colour telly in their cells and have a cushy time of it," retorted Helen, trying to get her partner to snap out of the despondant mood she'd sunk into. Nikki had the grace to blush at being picked up on her carelessly expressed unthinking prejudice. As she thought about it, a flood of embarrassment swept through her.

"Touche," she conceded. "That was a shitty thing to say. OK, so if you're so smart, is there any way I can cut down on wearing out my shoes in traipsing the corridors of academia?"

Nikki's superficially cynical edge to her question did not deceive Helen. She knew that her partner was sold on the idea and genuinely wanted ideas on how to avoid timewasting. Memories of studying for her own degree taught her that Nikki's concern wasn't misplaced. Silently she held out a packet of cigarettes to Nikki who accepted the offer gratefully. The fact that she hadn't touched a cigarette all morning was definitely not because she was wanting to pack up smoking. Helen took over on the computer, applied her lateral thinking and finally brought up interesting details of a certain Ms Kristine Thorne.


	14. Chapter 14

**Scene Fourteen**

In the meantime, Karen couldn't believe herself, the way she was rivited to the sense of time creeping onwards, noting that Ross hadn't come back as promised. A whole mass of conflicted feelings rose up in her that she couldn't articulate. What if he had been run over by a car? What if he'd gone out to his friend's place and had got himself legless? What if he'd met a girl and had swanned over to her place? She knew that those big blue eyes could charm some nameless girl and get what he wanted from her. After all, she ruefully reflected how she had put up with his wayward ways for way too long and hadn't drawn the line as tight as she should have done. Maternal guilt had such a lot to answer for.

"Can I knock on your door and meet the shitload of ideas you've got running around

inside your head?" a distant voice interjected harshly into her closed in world. Karen blinked and saw Beth standing in front of her, hands on her hips, challenging her very status.

"I'm sorry Beth but I didn't hear you," came the reply from the careworn looking fair haired woman, fiddling with a lock of her hair in a distracted fashion. Before Beth's exasperation blew to the surface, she realised that this stressed out looking woman looked a million miles different from her confident lover and confidante.

"You might be surprised but I really believe you. I've seen you clockwatching for the past few hours and your cigarette intake has doubled."

"So what if you are," muttered Karen, guiltily stubbing out her cigarette into the already full ashtray.

"I know you're worried about Ross but you must remember that Ross is twenty years old and a grown man unless you have serious reasons that he's not acting his age," Beth offered in a tone of voice that tried to be reasonable. She foung back the temptation to be contemptuously sarcastic as a whole stream of possible advixce whirled around in her mind.

"Even though he acts like a spoilt brat, he should remember that you have a life of your own...because he hadn't got the brain to leave you his mobile number doesn't mean he should run a guilt trip on you...After dossing around and acting like you don't exist doesn't mean he can sponge off you...you'll never see the money back that he's sponged off you...he clearly doesn't give a shit about you so why should you care about him...'

She rejected every single one of them because, while they might all be undoubtedly true, this form of truthfulness would only backfire and fuel Karen's existing unhealthy tendency to bear all the guilt of the world upon her shoulders. She really didn't buy all this happy families crap being a proudly independent woman and an unashamed lesbian as well. If this was what 'happy families' was all about, then the entire world could stuff it, Beth reasoned as she knocked back her glass of wine and anger rose in her.

It wasn't only when cooler reason started to prevail when she reined in the rush of ideas and found words to say that Karen might relate to.

"The trouble is that I do have reason to believe he won't act his age. It was simpler when he was a was a smaller, simpler wirld that he moved in. The trouble with him growing up only means that he's got the mobility to get around more, the greater ability to get himself into trouble without the maturity to make the right decision...I'm sorry, darling. I've been an antisocial git and I've shut you out of everything."

"Come here, darling," Beth said, her voice soft and seductive. She really did feel desire in her feeling that her woman was back with her. Karen moved forwards into Beth's open arms who gently caressed her. The sometime mother was overwhelmed with inexpressible gratitude for Beth just being there. There was something in her large eyes, the softness of her full lips, the shape of her face and that glossy dark bobbed hairstyle that made her want to melt into her. Feelings of tenderness ran through her system that here was someone whose love was safe to receive, that didn't kick her in the teeth when help was unselfishly offered. She was such a dependable friend as well as a glorious lover. Finally Karen's fingertips were tempted to reached down to her lover's shapely backside as desires started to colour her loving feelings. She planted little kisses in gratitude along her lover's soft neck and breathed in her subtle perfume.

"I tell you what, babes. Since you've comeback, what about a drink or two and a nice evening in?" Beth purred in her sexiest voice.

"What could be better?" Karen responded in like vein, noting her friend's sharp observation about herself, her lips against Beth's ear.

She drew herself back a little and their lips met in the way they were always meant to be. After a long while exploring the delicious texture of each other's mouths, Karen drew her lover by the hand and in the general direction of their bed.

The bag lay in the corner, unregarded and irrelevant in the great scheme of things.

Suddenly, there was a loud repeated knocking at the door which told the two women that this wasn't someone briefly announcing her or his presence but someone demanding and insensitive. A sudden suspicion shot through Karen's mind.

"Hell, I bet that's Ross again," Karen exclaimed, maternal instincts visibly kicking into gear to immediately respond to the demand.

"We'll answer the door but not before we're ready," Beth interjected in decisive tones.

While Karen hastily shot out of bed, Beth coolly reached for a reasonably decorous nightdress and started brushing her hair into its customary elegant bob. As she popped on her slippers, Karen feverishly wrenched on her nightie and was about to rush towards the front door when Beth laid her hand on her partner's arm.

"Remember, it's our flat and even if it is your son making that bloody awful row, he can't come the spoiled brat routine. It's not as if he's been the dutiful considerate son."

The dark haired woman's quiet words finally had its effect and cut through deeply buried but none the less powerful instincts. She stopped to adjust her dishevelled nightie and ran a brush briefly through her hair.

"You're right, darling. Now we'll sort him out," she said her mouth set in a determined line.

Karen reached the front door and flung it open, abruptly stopping her son from barging in.

"What the hell were you doing making that almighty racket. We've got neighbours you know."

"Most people are up at this hour though I suppose you've been screwing your bird," Ross replied with a disapproving scowl on his face. To his secret disappointment, there was noone on the landing.

"Ross, come in while I set down a few boundaries around here. You're still the teenage brat that I need to make a few matters clear to,"Karen retorted, her blue eyes flashing fire and that unmistakeable mother tone in her voice, the aspect of her past persona that Ross found unwelcome and uncomfortable, not to mention the prison officer persona that she'd once been and didn't shake off at the end of her shift. Temporarily submissive, he followed his mother inside while Beth looked on with delighted interest.

"Take a seat," Karen gestured curtly to the armchair while Beth followed Karen to the settee.

"First thing you've got to know is that you don't ask two lesbians what they do in the privacy in their own bedroom. That is totally off limits. Secondly, you had better get it into your head that Beth, my partner is with me for the long run.

"Like Steve was?"countered Ross "I remember you introducing me as your new partner. He was the one that introduced you into the prison service so you spent more and more time on late shifts so I got some childminder dumped on me that I didn't want while you were mooning after some new guy."

"Ross, we're talking about the present, not the past," cut back Karen, slightly colouring at the undoubted truth of his remarks. Why the hell should she be imprisoned by her son for the mistakes of her past, she thought to herself rebelliously, fighting to not get sucked into the swamp of an infinity of guilt that could never be assuaged. "You're not some helpless child but an independent twenty year old so you'd better talk like one. Yes, I made mistakes in my choices of men, your father included but you better believe me when I say that if I'd met Beth years before, I wouldn't have got into all the messes I got into."

"So you thought you'd try women for a change, like a change in fashion?"

"You are totally trivialising my situation," exploded Karen, hardly believing her ears."Who the hell are you to tell me what to do with my life? If you must know, I had a lifelong lousy choice in men. Just why they turned out self centred, unreliable, dishonest with a superficial charm for which I fell hook, line and sinker, you'd better ask them not me. Beth is the real thing and they're not. You'd better get used to her being around in my life for a long, long time to come."

Instinctively, Beth's hand reached out to her partner's who she admired so much for fighting back under the weight of family centred moral blackmail, something she knew to be a powerfully destructive force when it could do so much good in the world. Karen's hand moved towards hers and their fingers and palms became strongly interlinked.

"I suppose you can't keep yourself off each other," Ross sneered

"That's enough Ross," cut in Beth at last. "Your mother has told it like it is. You can't change our situation so you'd better accept it."

"You can't tell me what to 're not my dad," Ross shot back, trying the oldest trick in the book. To his dismay, this frighteningly self assured woman looked back scornfully while his mum took up the cudgels with perfect controlled ease. Karen felt as comfortable here as she had done in giving evidence before the Old Bailey.

"Look at it this way, Ross. You're either a brattish adolescent or a spoilt child in which case I can tell you what to do. If you're really being a man , though you sound far too much like your dad for my liking, then Beth and I have every right to make a reasoned case and you are obliged to do the same in return. Emotional manipulation is out and so is moral blackmail."

"So I suppose your mind's made up, as usual. I don't get a look in."

You don't see that we've been extraordinarily patient with you. This is the one and only privilege you'll get. We don't take this sort of crap from strangers, from people we know and we certainly don't take it from you, Ross. We can certainly flourish with your so- called moral disapproval. That's your problem, not ours."

"So the door's shut here. I might as well piss off back to my crappy flat," Ross said sulkily, making an obvious attempt to glance round at the comfortable surroundings which were to be denied him.

"The trouble is that you want to have it both ways, Ross. I'm not going to tear myself apart why you haven't made more of yourself than you have. That's for you to work out, same as I did when I joined the WRAF when I was seventeen."

"We're not shutting the door, Ross,"Beth gently interjected, feeling for the sadness that her partner clearly felt."It's up to you to prove yourself if you want to come around. If we have a repetition of this bad behaviour, the door is closed."

Ross saw the way that his mother's jaw was set and he'd come to the end of the line in trying to get his own way. He wanted out of here but not without one last try at getting something out of her for old times sake.

"I'm a bit short of money, mum. Can you lend me a fiver till I get paid at the end of the week. I'll come back, honest."

Karen got up without saying anything. Ross was watching his mother's slim legs and couldn't help noticing her sense of dignity as her nightdress covered her reasonably decorously. Her whole manner wasn't that of the floozie who had been caught in flagrente but she was his mother. She had always been strong but had always been vulnerable to his demands on her as a hardworking woman who had never been round long enough as a child and whose male partners had undercut her efforts to create a normal home. The trouble was that he had always been necessary to her as a symbol of her normality and he had the uncomfortable feeling that she didn't need that anymore. She wasn't his mother on the terms that had been and he resented her taking that power from him. It escaped his mind that he hadn't been around when she was going through living hell with a court case hanging over her for a hit and run accident she wasn't responsible for. He was off doing other things and, besides, he didn't read the papers and the TV news was part of the boring bit he didn't want to know about.

In this silence, Karen found her handbag, tore it open and thrust the note angrily into his hand.

"I mean a tenner. I could really do with it," he said in that wheedling tone of voice.

"A fiver you asked for, a fiver you get. Don't you pull that stunt on me. This is the way it is. I really don't expect you to come back and repay the fiver but I'm willing to be proved wrong. If you do, you go up in my estimation. If I see you in a couple of months trying to cadge more money off me, the answer's no with a capital N. I could have been stuck in prison for all you cared if it hadn't been for my female friends while you were off being independent," Karen said with a sneer that cut like a knife while tightening her grip on her lover's firm clasp. "Like Beth says, it's up to you to prove yourself. That's the way things go."

The young man took the money and shambled out. He couldn't think of anything else to do but to go to the boozer. It was a step up from what he'd been recently doing though he wouldn't tell his mother that.

"Beth, I want to take you to bed and show you that I don't need men anymore," Karen said with an undertone of desperation.

This took Beth momentarily aback. She knew that Karen wanted to penetrate her in the way they normally didn't do in the daytime. If it meant that her lover would feel the better for it and it meant so much to her, she'd go along with it. she knew that there wasn't a simple straight line that instigated their lovemaking.

"You mean your son as well," questioned Beth, summoning up the courage to deal with the one area in her lover's life that some would think a weakness and others would think an unbreakable obligation.

"He knows by now what he needs to do with his life," Karen answered shortly. "I can't live my life through him to get him to do the right thing. Whatever claim he has on me isn't unconditional. You can't choose your family but I can choose my lover."

The broad smirk with which Karen spoke the last lines showed Beth how single minded were Karen's desires for her.

"Right now, I love the idea of being chosen- and everything that goes with it," came her softly spoken, downcast lidded response.

She let Karen take her by the hand back to their bedroom where the fair haired woman took her in her arms and hungrily kissed her. This was the start to them disrobing each other and when they were lying naked in bed, Karen reached for their bedside cupboard and reached for her strap-on. She looked at herself with satisfaction in the way she looked and, for a second, Beth wondered if Karen's hunger to make love was going into a dimension she wasn't ready for.

"Don't worry darling." Karen said, an unexpected softness in her voice. "I'm not about to ravish you- certainly not in a way you don't want."

"You mean it," Beth couldn't help herself from saying.

"Of course I do." Karen said gently, softly kissing her lover's eyes tenderly."Don't worry, I've been on the receiving end before. I wouldn't do that to you ever. That would be a gross betrayal."

All the tension that had build up in Beth eased out of her body. Karen had felt that and it impelled her to speak. She was going to make love to her in a way both women wanted. Gently, she pressed at Beth where she was soft and yielding and to her delight, she felt her lover's legs open and be ready to receive her


	15. Chapter 15

**Scene Fifteen**

In a much more disembodied location, Alice was still seated on her swivel chair, lazily moving around on the fulcrum she was suspended on . It symbolised the situation that she'd been drawn into without thinking. The background chatter of her colleagues faded into the background as did the ringing of the phones while Alice stared sightlessly out of the window.

Her mind took her back to her first interview with Mrs Elliott who might have been any number of the inhabitants of the great metropolis who faded into the background. As the interview took shape, she sensed that the home help was given good reason for concern. Normally, Alice's natural warmth of personality and her acquired communication skills managed to put the average person at ease and work through the ingrained suspicion of officialdom. When she was dressed for work, she took care to pin up her long black hair and aim for a neutral dress style of flattish shoes, dark trousers, sensible top and overcoat that avoided the extremes of power dressing suits or looking too casual. Normally, the people she dealt with could be reasoned with. In particular, there were occasions when what her clients wanted ran counter to what was professionally demanded of her. She noticed in particular that, unless that person were already stressed, any anger built up in stages and she had developed the knack of not letting the situation get out of hand. Besides the emergency mobile in her briefcase, she was very much on her own.

It didn't take too long for Mrs Elliott to display very strange mood changes, relaxed and laughing one moment and aggressively angry the next and, in particular, she was very defensive about her sense of security, emotional and physical. Alice was immediately put on her guard and had to watch every word she was saying. Though she was no psychiatrist, she began to feel that there was a manic depressive strain to this woman's emotional makeup with odd flashes of paranoia that worried her and explained why the home help was having particular difficulties.

"Of course, my daughter's round the twist. You think I'm strange," the old woman said with a bewildering thrust of self-revelation before meandering off into one of her fantasies. "You should see her when she's being all nicey, nicey. She'll come and smarm and charm her way into my house and I nearly think she's mended her ways. I look in my purse and I find she's taken all the change out of my purse. Got to have five bob for the electric meter, that's what I say."

"You have my sympathy Mrs Elliott," Alice found herself saying, struggling to assimilate this wierd mixture of the possibly true and the obviously fanciful. "I mean you should be able to trust your family."

"That's not all I don't trust about her. It's her friends. They lead her astray, that's what I say," muttered the old woman darkly, glowering suspiciously through the untidy lock of grey hair that curled halfway across her eye."

Alice gave up. Her expert eye ran a mental inventory over the house. She wished that she could look at the notes that the home help had left for the next caller. She wondered why the old woman hadn't ripped them to pieces until she began to realise that, in her mind, she was carrying out a strange game of 'double bluff', to outwit the authority's schemes.

Next stop when she had made her escape was the old woman's local GP and, sure enough, she found out that the doctor was a worried man as was the receptionist on duty. His records showed a regular pattern of emergency phone calls from Mrs Elliott was dying, that she'd been assaulted by her daughter which confirmed Alice's growing opinion that, in all probability, her daughter was just another working woman with an unpaid, thankless caring duty on the side that drained her energies. Certainly, Alice had been mentally exhausted after the one call. In particular, the receptionist was struck by one abusive phone call where Mrs Elliott had made a stream of complaints, one after the other, talking at express speed where the poor receptionist couldn't get a word in edgeways. The doctor, however, had been too pressured by his workload to do more than arrange for Mrs Elliott to see the duty nurse but she had failed all the appointments booked for her. On moving onwards to the home help provider arranged by the local authority, a search for help had not got as far as that.

Alice had called round a second time around to recap on aspects that she'd touched on previously and armed with her background knowledge. To her dismay, that visit went worse than her first visit. She normally found that the first visit was normally the most problematic when her client's natural defences were at their highest and even delicately phrased questions could seem intrusive.

"I've spent a lifetime bringing up my daughter and look where it's got me. I expect you think that the sun shines out of her backside. You're not even any good as a nosy parker."

"You need to be tested as you seriously need medication to feel comfortable with yourself," Alice had persisted.

"There's nothing that a new pair of legs and a new daughter wouldn't fix," snapped Mrs Elliott. "It's all the fault of those female friends of hers. They made her what she is now."

"Very well, perhaps I ought to see you with your daughter present and find out for myself. If I'm wrong, I'll apologise for getting it wrong," Alice shot back, firing off her last shot in her locker in appealing to this vindictive woman to prove wrong this jumped up authority figure. If this didn't work, nothing would, Alice feared..

The old woman shut up and glared. this was some fancy trick, her expression said as much to Alice, and she wouldn't fall for that one. The best that Alice could do was to leave her card for Mrs Elliott to phone her at work and leave a message. The old woman accepted her card with ill-grace though Alice had the sneaking feeling that this was just a device with which to dodge the issue.

Finally, Alice had turned her car for home, the vision of her comfortable home with George acting like a beacon of light in the gathering gloom of her late in the day call, worked in amongst the other cases she was dealing with. This last call was the capper on a very bad day. She drove the car round the tight corners of the council estate and towards freedom and liberation. As she grabbed her briefcase and fumbled with the key in the lock, the opening door revealed the concerned expression on her beautiful lover's face. She stumbled into George's comforting arms and, dropping her briefcase, made the eager leap from tired out professional into her woman's beloved.

"My God, you look as if you'd had a terrible day," George exclaimed, that wonderful aristocratic tone of voice suffused with kindness. "You take it easy and I'll fix you a drink. Dinner's ready in half an hour."

As Alice lay back on the sofa, a glass of red wine was placed in her hand which she downed rapidly. Placing the glass on the side, Alice slipped loose the ties on her hair which let it fall free. She felt the better for it and she knew that George loved this little habit of hers.

They ate their dinner in companionable silence, George gauging that Alice needed to put a decent space of time between her day and the present before she would talk. Finally, they sat at the carved mahogany table opposite each other, the fine silverware and china reflecting their shared tastes, while George's blue eyes glinted in the subdued lighting.

"You know, sweetheart, if I'd been ten rounds with Jo Mills in the old days and lost my case, thanks to John smacking down out of hand all my submissions on points of law while favouring Jo's and wheeling in a few of his own, I'd look pretty much like you do right now."

"I just want to be held by you, darling,"Alice said in a breaking voice, all trace of the in-command professional thrown aside.

They moved off towards the comfortable sofa and Alice placed herself on her lover's lap and let herself be embraced. George understood this primal need for comfort, something which she would have emphatically denied to herself and others. George's fingers kept running through her lover's long dark hair and she kissed Alice's soft cheek and lips time and time again.

It had been a couple of days later when Alice returned from going out first thing from home to her first call and pop into the office to make a couple of phone calls and check her post and messages. This time, her luck changed, or so she had thought.

"Oh by the way, Mrs Elliott phoned up. she left a message that if you call round at three in the afternoon as her daughter's sure to be coming round. Does that make any sense?"

Overjoyed, Alice flew over to her desk to dump her papers, do the necessaries and make the call. She thanked her colleague profusely. She had felt that her luck had turned and was thoroughly energised and ready for the visit.

Alice could remember the warm September sun glancing off her windscreen as she drove, feeling good about herself that she could get through to one of her most difficult clients. It made her job worth doing as opposed to fighting an uphill battle, feeling that she was getting nowhere fast. She drove up to the bungalow confidently enough, feeling alive and ready for any combination of scenarios as to what might happen. She had calculated that Mrs Elliott's daughter might be an ally who might tip the scales just enough her way. It gave her a poignant feeling now as she balanced on that swivel chair as she recalled that positive feeling.

Mrs Elliott let her in with surprisingly good grace, making a pot of tea for them both and reminiscing how her husband had cleared off when she became pregnant, never to return and how she had brought up her daughter on her own.

"She'll be here now," Mrs Elliott said, a faint disturbing smile on her face as the key turned in the lock and the sound of footsteps came closer. Alice turned round to see what saint or sinner would emerge through the once in her life, the words were strangled in her throat as the woman was horrifyingly familiar. It was Becky.

One glance told her that it was as much of a shock to her ex as it was to Alice and the twisted grin on her mother's face told her that she'd planned this trap. In one horrifying flash of imagination, Alice saw what went into her ex lover's disturbed personality and what got her that way. The shared contorted expressions conveyed a twisted sense of hatred and distorted neediness of each other. Alice's frazzled emotions placed her in a situation completely over her head, horrifying for someone who was supposedly there to help others cope with and make sense of their situations.

"Mother, why the hell is this bitch doing round here? You did this to wind me up," screamed Becky hardly looking at Alice.

"So she was one of your tarts. You're nothing but a low down pervert for all your airs and graces. You're no daughter of mine," scarled Mrs Elliott back with venomous rage.

The shouting and screaming instantly got totally out of control and Becky lunged forward, violence in every move of her muscles. Mrs Elliott got to her feet alarmingly quickly and grabbed a sharp carving knife from the kitchen sink and the two women wrestled for control of the fatal sliver of metal and cheap teak handle, and it whipped round in sharp arcs. It wasn't clear whether or not either woman wanted to stab the other with the dangerous weapon or whether each woman was trying to disarm the other. Finally, by some process which Alice had trouble in describing, the knife jabbed deep into the old woman's arm who cried out in agony. Becky promptly clapped her hands to her head and gave one almighty scream and bolted headlong from the house headlong out of the door, flung the front door wide and was out..

It was only then that a neighbour rushed into the house and tried to staunch the flow of blood with a tea towel, while Alice was shaking with horror, not even being able to think to dial 999.

That felt like the darkest moment of Alice's life, she mused as she stared out of the window at her council offices.

Away from the grimness of the inner city council estate, Jo was enjoying meeting up with Mel on a regular basis at the teashop. Enjoying their conversations as they did, it was only a matter of time when Mel invited Jo to come round to her place. With John away and exchanging periodic phone calls, Jo was happy to take up the offer.

She went round rather nervously to Mel's place, working her way round a corner of the village that she'd never noticed before. She noticed at once that her friend's front garden had that carelessly untidy look about it that was reminiscent of the state of her old bedroom when they'd been schoolfriends. Inside was much the same and her old Cherry red guitar was propped up in the corner next to an amplifier.

"So what's going on in your life Mel?" Jo asked politely after their series of conversations had expanded onto more intimate balanced the teacup in her hands and sat up straight on the settee.

"You mean have I got a man in my life?" teased Mel laughingly as she sprawled inelegantly in her armchair, her body movements still that of a hormonal adolescent after all these years. She was wearing her usual combination of tight jeans and leather jacket

"Well, I didn't really think you're the settling down type," Jo said, trying to recover her normal poise. "I know you of old."

"My last girlfriend buggered off a few weeks ago. Silly cow. We were going nowhere even before we moved to the country," came the disdainful reply which covered up a multitude of mixed emotions.

"Oh, you mean you're a lesbian," concluded Jo, betraying more wide eyed naivety in her voice than she felt comfortable with.

"Got it in one darling," came the sardonic reply. Inweardly, Mel was noticing how her friend was timidly peeping out from behind her normal inhibitions. It intrigued her to consider what the real Jo might be when she finally stepped forth, the only previous experience of that being when she had become her bass couldn't help noticing how naturally tall and elegant she was.

"So you look on women in the same way that men do," added Jo, feeling more of a fool than ever.

"Men are a closed book to me so I don't know. There's a certain kind of women I've always been attracted to. It all depends what floats my boat at that particular moment."

Jo blushed a pretty shade of pink. She didn't know what to think. All the time, her old friend stared into her eyes, double daring her in some obscure way as she always had done ever since they first met in the playground. She suddenly noticed that, casually dressed as she always was, she'd gone to some trouble with her makeup and her tousled hair had an elegance about her. She suddenly noticed how attractive her friend's broad grin was, how white and even her teeth were. Finally, she banished any foolishness from her mind, feeling how good it was to be with her old friend whom she'd always warmed to.

"So how about you, Jo?" came the perfectly logical question after the fair- haired woman's natural curiosity.

"My kids are grown up and gone to university so I guess I've got my freedom," Jo declared with great satisfaction. After all, John seemed a million miles away in Warwick, the other side of the world and far away.

"So why don't you come round and split a bottle of wine or two?" suggested Mel, her voice soft and gentle. "The company would do both of us some good."

"Give me a couple of nights to clear my work out of the way and I'd love that,"came the enthusiastic for a penny, in for a pound, she reasoned.


	16. Chapter 16

**Scene Sixteen**

As Nikki contemplated her situation, she sensed that there was an indirect relationship between Helen's investigations into why there were so many women lifers in Britain compared with the rest of Europe and Kristine Thorne's very interesting study into "Does giving prisoners an education decrease their chance of reoffending?" The subject matter grabbed Nikki's interest straightaway as she herself had been a direct beneficiary of what this woman was advocating. She resolved to contact this woman as she sensed that this was the answer to her problems.

Accordingly, she found herself walking along Woburn Place in the Belgravia part of London at a smart clip, on a freshly biting day in very early October which forewarned of the onset of buildings ceased to be the the modern glass fronted shops you could find anywhere and became more genteel and traditional. The small park that took up a block in the grid layout of London Streets provided that pleasant bouquet of greenery that lifted her spirits and threatened to delay her timely arrival.

She'd been sent an e mail with clear, precise guidance as to how to get to the Institute of Education, at the University of London and, sure enough, the flight of steps were visible halfway up the street, a hotel travelodge occupying a large space on the other side. She strode up the flight of steps and into the spacious foyer. To her left, it opened out onto a wide staircase with signposts to lecture rooms and in the further distance a typical queue for cheap coffee and chocolates. This left like studentland all right, as she took in the young men and women with deliberately faded jeans and red Che Guevera T shirts. Nikki considered ruefully that her Alma Mater was the Open University whose local source was Larkhall Prison and she'd worked on her studies alone in her dingy prison cell.

"You want some assistance?" the man behind the desk asked politely, seeing the smartly dressed stranger looking vaguely around her. Nikki promptly pulled herself back to the present, handed out the printed out e mail and was politely given directions as was her due. As the lift smoothly took her up into the heart of the building, the automatic voice mildly irritated Nikki in intoning which floor she was as if she hadn't got eyes to see with. Finally, she strolled down the corridor and spotted the name on the door she wanted. She knocked politely on the door and Nikki was startled to hear a dog bark and to hear a clear voice call out for her to a split second, she wasn't sure just who it was that had granted her admission.

It wasn't until she was inside that Nikki realised how startlingly different this woman was to anyone she'd come across before. Ms Kristine Thorne was a large woman in every sense of the word, wearing a long near ankle length brown dress that somehow cast her shape to the best advantage. Her face was pleasingly contoured with an upturned nose and her brown, slightly auburn hair was worn with a fringe which covered her ears. Her large eyes were brown but somehow not focussed on her. Her left hand grasped the handle of the harness which connected her to a large lively black Labrador dog whose tail whisked back and was only a little while later that Nikki took in the layout of her office which was very neatly and functionally arranged with the obligatory computer and a shelf full of large volumes which she guessed would be written in guiltily confessed to herself that this and guide dogs was the top limit of her knowledge in this area.

"Say hello to my guide dog, Jules and then we'll talk," Kristine said to Nikki with a slight smile on her face. Slowly, the penny dropped to Nikki's total embarrassment.

"I'm sorry for my rudeness. I didn't know,"Nikki finally admitted and gingerly patted the dog who shook his head as he shook himself, including his floppy ears, by way of acknowledging her crossed his paws in front of himself and another pair of bright eyes were trained on Nikki.

"I suppose you're thinking why didn't I tell you in my e mail that I'm blind," challenged Kristine, speaking in a cultured voice whose matter of fact manner had Nikki floored. This woman works a computer, her mind was asking?

"I didn't think to wonder,"Nikki confessed, a reply that struck her as really lame but the best she could do in the circumstances.

"I can hear what you're thinking, Nikki. I wanted you to see me as I am without stereotyping me. I hate the word disabled. I'll show you what I can do and then you can make up your mind if it will help. Excuse me as I'm just finishing off marking one of my less attentive student's essays and pointing out the error of his ways."

Nikki was struck by the grace with which Kristine moved lightly across the floor to her computer. She adjusted the screen so that Nikki could see the text that appeared which was set up skewed to the left hand side of the at once, a voice jerkily talked away in words that Nikki could hardly distinguish and her fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard. In coloured print, Kristine commented severely on various slipshod arguments, the failure to quote the source material in the better arguments and the misquoted sources to which the student had given had to admit that though her judgments were harsh, she was conscientious in backing up in what she was saying.

"He really should know better not to con his way past me and use the eyes he was given. His spelling and punctuation are particularly abysmal."

"Jesus, it's just as well my open university work hadn't got into your hands," Nikki frankly confessed. Just as soon as she had got her head around the fact that Kristine could work her way round a computer, she was demonstrating a pretty phenomenal grasp of detail that made her truly scary. Just how some naive, nervous nineteen or twenty year old student would react, Nikki didn't want to imagine.

"It's good for his soul. He'll learn from my criticism. I'm not in this world to flatter people," Kristine replied with perfect aplomb and total self-assurance..

Bloody hell, thought Nikki. I thought that I was pretty scary and abrasive when I was first imprisoned. Fenner doesn't know how much of a pussycat I was by comparison and if he'd ever come across the very formidable Ms Kristine Thorne, he'd be eaten alive. It had crossed her mind that she'd been going through a long process of validation, starting from when Helen Stewart fought her corner against the odds. She had become progressively mild mannered and self controlled over time and had reverted to type as a dissident member of the Ms Middle England family. It started to occur to her that this woman really needed to assert who she was more than she ever had and fought her way out of the narrow range of identities prescribed to her, starting off from being a helpless victim of her ailment.

"So what subjects do you teach at the university?" Nikki enquired. Kristine picked up a real interest in her work with her highly attuned hearing which enabled her to pick out delicate nuances in people's attitudes at fifty paces. Her students swore that this very determined woman functioned by extra sensory perception when she was up on the podium when delivering her thoroughly prepared lectures.

"I've been teaching education studies for the last five years at this university. I'm in my second year of a PhD, studying for a combined doctorate of Education and all fits in very well with my M A. as I'm now looking at cases of those who have reoffended, to see what type of education they either did or didn't receive whilst they were in custody on previous occasions. I'm hoping to construct a thesis as to what type of provision of education, rehabilitation might have prevented their subsequent reoffending," Kristine said in an animated manner. "It's not all theory as I have conducted interviews at two men's prisons as part of my MA."

"I can relate to that as I did a report called "An Investigation into HMP Larkhall - its implications for women's prisons.I'm sure my approach was pretty rough and ready by comparison as I can't get away from remembering the women I shared my time with at Larkhall. It rattled some cages in the Home Office, mind you."

Kristine laughed at the other woman's pleasant, unpretentious manner and how quickly she picked up on the substance of who she was and forgetting about the superficialities. Of course, she had picked up on this study which contained interesting insights.

"Just as a matter of interest, how much do you know about me?"Nikki enquired. A split second later, she regretted what she'd said as she feared that Kristine might immediately fasten on that opening to amusingly demonstrate her power of observation. After all, she had the perfect right to deploy it.

"I've done my research as that's one of my specialities. There's two reasons why I want to work with you. One reason is that you fought your way out of being imprisoned for life. You could have turned your back on your experiences but you didn't. I think that you're still a bit of an outcast for all your smart suit just as much as I am. The other is in talking to you, not just what you say but your voice sounds right. That's the way I judge people."

Is this perceptive woman for real when she says she's blind, wondered Nikki? She remembered reading somewhere that a person deprived of one faculty, develops others to compensate.

"I've read your MA dissertation and I found it really interesting. I agree with everything you say but you do come up with some real gems in your observations. For example, "The only method which penal institutions have for dealing with resentment is to suppress it."That really was the story of three years of my life, except for one very remarkable woman who was the wing governor who saw qualities in me that the cynical 'lock em up' brigade were blind to, oh I'm sorry,"Nikki finished, her hand over her mouth, hyperconscious that she'd put her foot in it.

"Blind people don't go in for political correctness Nikki," Kristine said with a forgiving smile. In her mind, she'd learned to precisely focus on what mattered and what didn't. It wasn't the first time that she'd put some uninitiate through a severe learning curve and her hope was that sooner or later the sighted people in the world would finally learn to get things right from the word go and not ask dumb questions and especially, not to offer to escort her across the road, a real pet hate of hers.

Suddenly Nikki's mobile phone started beeping and Nikki made a grab for it. She knew it would be Helen.

"Hi darling, "Nikki said quite casually. "I'm having this most intriguing conversation with this very remarkable lecturer. To say her work is useful is the understatement of the century and, oh yes, she's blind, something I'm still struggling to get my head around as she acts like she isn't. Her guide dog's friendly though."

Helen did a mental double take at the way her partner threw in that casual observation and the sounds of laughter in the background and the barking sounds. After all the guide dog had been very good while this discussion had gone on but couldn't be self-effacing forever. Helen opted to stick to business and wait for the full story later.

"I'm sure you're enjoying yourself in the land of academia but I was wondering if you'd be able to pick up a recent publication on pregnancy. You know how I like to research you've got a pen and paper handy, I'll give you the details."

"Darling, the University of London is hardly likely to specialise in books about pregnancy," Nikki exclaimed, casting a sideways glance at Kristine to see how she was taking this, partly to show to this very unconventional woman that she could pull a few surprises out of her hat.

"I know that but there's an absolutely gynormous Waterstones on Gower Street within spitting distance of the university. Trust me, I've done my research."

Nikki gave in gracefully as she got out a pen and paper and started scribbling. That's two women who have done their homework, she thought ruefully to herself.

"That's my girlfriend. She was once the wing governor of Larkhall prison who I told you about earlier on," Nikki said with an impish expression on her face. She had very mixed feelings when she saw how the other woman take this revelation perfectly in her stride.

"I'm really pleased for really must want to have a baby that much to go down the IVF route. You surely don't think I was going to disapprove of what you're doing?" Kristine replied with a mixture of surprising gentleness and her typical sharp observation.

"Of course not," murmured Nikki, as she felt the spotlight trained on her once again. You always wanted to be accepted for who you are so deal with it when you find this in someone else, she told herself.

"Let's compare diaries," Kristine said in meditative tones as she brought up an electronic screen on her computer whose voice reeled off details of her

highly organised life. I might have known, thought Nikki, as she fished out her own dog-eared pocket diary. "Of course we'll be able to meet up at the Howard

League for Penal Reform AGM, wouldn't we?" Kristine added with a winning smile."

She concluded that further conversations with this very sharp-witted woman were going to be highly stimulating if she could manage to ride the very sharp learning curve. As she took her leave, she gradually realised that this woman was only twenty-eight years old, ten years younger than she was and her mouth opened wide with amazement at the thought of it.

Many miles away, John was busy enough at Warwick University with a free hand in shaping the outlook of the up and coming judges. He was sure in the knowledge that this time, he wasn't being relegated to the wastelands so that other judges could take over cases to which he might have given a totally different direction and that, this time around, they would act with sturdy independence from the executive. This knowledge gave him the confidence to expend his energy on his lectures

The only fly in the ointment was that he felt a million miles away from Jo first time they'd slept together, they had talked over their relationship about taking matters slowly, to ensure that no precipitate action would spark off any discord and he'd gone along with her suggestion, knowing full well that he had reason to distrust his impetuous nature. What he hadn't foreseen was that he was making a big act of renunciation in suppressing his habits of a lifetime, of wining and dining and charming some attractive woman into bed. He had always cynically dismissed the 'holier than thou' moralisings of the likes of Sir Ian and his kind in considering that virtue was very easy for them to achieve. After all, what attractive woman would look twice at them? He had been placed in a completely different position as his charm and good looks made him attractive to women so that the temptations of the flesh were much more prominent.

He was beginning to consider that it was a difficult proposition for him to suddenly turn off the charm, especially that being a stand in lecturer at Warwick University was providing him with an exquisite array of attractions and temptations now that equal opportunities and ingrained feminist ideas in todays Britain meant that increasing numbers of women wanted to scale the heights of the legal profession so the presence of Jo Mills and George Channing was becoming more commonplace.

He phoned Jo Mills up in what he pictured as her idyllic retreat in the house that he was so familiar with over the years, the house where she'd brought up her children who had now grown up. She was always cheerful when they talked and rattled on inconsequentially about how her life was going, in particular that an old schoolfriend had recently moved into the village. He was honour bound in not wanting her to be miserable in every moment that she was separated from him and glad for her sake that everything was going well. He knew that his spell in Warwick wouldn't last too much longer as Newton was on the mend and, by all accounts, was becoming restive and bored. He also had the prospect of addressing the Howard League of Penal Reform AGM and smiled at the droll thought of having a lesbian fan base which would ensure that his radical views would be well received.

He enjoyed strolling through the greenery of Warwick University while October days meant that, while chill winds blew across the campus, the sunshine slanted low over the trees and bathed his world in a golden glow. He liked the feel of walking along the flagstones of the campus building and luxuriating in the bustling feel of students and lecturers coming and going and the pleasure of mulling his ideas over in his mind and feeling important in the great scheme of things. He was temporarily removed from the perpetual warfare that still rumbled on though both Monty and Joseph phoned him from time to time and kept him posted on developments. Life felt riotously ablaze with colour, life and promise which he was the centre of and its taste was very energising.


	17. Chapter 17

**Scene Seventeen**

A fierce blast of cold air hit Karen and blew through her thin nylon blue nurse's uniform as she made her way across the staff car park to her little green MG. As soon as she was moving, she pictured her darling Beth on the way home on a similar journey, perhaps after, perhaps before she was starting out but she knew she would wrap her arms round her beloved and nothing and noone would stand in her way when she got home. She'd worked an intensive shift and was glad to get out of the hospital doors. Life had moved on for her right after her son Ross had briefly come back into her life and soon departed. Yes it did make her sad to think that he'd done so badly for himself but she'd got it into her head that she couldn't live his life for him and howling mistakes he'd made in his life were his responsibility, not hers.

Excitedly, she clattered up the steps to their flat and pushed open the door. The flat was in darkness which meant that Beth was on her way back. A smile creased her face as she fished out her mobile phone and the text message flashed up.

"Setting off in half hour. Hugs & kisses. Beth."

It was the habit of both women that as soon as the first of them got home, she would open the letter box and fish out whatever was there. After she'd binned the usual junk mail, she laid the bills to one side for later. To her surprise, the last letter was a crumpled looking envelope addressed first to her old luxury flat which had been crossed out and readdressed to the terraced house where she'd lived and finally it was readdressed to her present address. Who on earth would know to send on post on two successive changes of address, Karen wondered? It was only as she vaguely studied the letter that she realised that the envelope was prison issue. God knows she'd seen enough of them when checking outgoing post when she was a prison officer which was...a lifetime ago and before she'd changed her personality from the foundations upward.

With a strange sense of foreboding, she sat down and carefully opened up the letter. As she took in the first ragged lines, she put her hand to her mouth. She really wasn't prepared for this.

"Karen darling

I thought about writing to you for ages only I didn't know how you'd think of me after all this time. Things have got so bad that I thought in for a penny, in for a pound..

It's bloody terrible here. You wouldn't know what it's like being called an ex-screw and all the other prisoners are giving me grief with all the prison officers giving them a nod and a wink. You would think they'd give one of their own a break, someone who gave a lifetime to the service but there's no loyalty these days.

I know you probably don't want to know me and I wouldn't blame you if you don't but we had something special once. I remember us going on holiday together and I can still remember the sea, the sun and your presence which made everything worthwhile. It was a real shame that things came between us- I guess working together twenty four seven didn't help and I guess that a bit of it might have been my own fault.

I'm begging with you, pleading with you to do something to make things better for me. You're on the outside and it's only with being banged up for all these months that I can see that mountains can be moved from the outside wherever you are. I'm in danger of going out of my mind, the way things are going.

Only you can help me out of the big black hole I'm in. You always knew how to look after me like the time Marilyn cleared off with the kids. You'll never find anyone who'll care for you like I care for you.

I've never forgotten about you. Trust me.

Your Jim".

Instantly, her mind raced overtime gathering in the facts in a frantic fashion. It was dated June 22nd 2002, two days before Fenner committed suicide on Monday June 24th 2002 and now it was Friday October 25th 2002. How on earth did this message from the grave take so long, four months and four days to arrive? When was it checked by the prison officer? Who posted the letter? It wasn't till the thought hit her that it didn't matter how, when or why this was received, the letter was here, what should she do? How should she feel? Right from her unconscious, images of when she'd moved heaven and earth to get him out of the cell where he'd been stabbed with a broken bottle which Shell Dockley had wielded, of visiting him in hospital, of being sorry when he was going through his divorce from Marilyn, of visiting him at his bedsit of her own free will, of kissing him, of him forcing her to have sex with him when she said that she didn't want it, of her screwed up crazy behaviour afterwards, of Mark Waddle a fellow prison officer miscast as the knight in shining armour to defend her when she didn't want that either. She pressed her hands to her head as she was no longer safe in this comfortable flat but her mind was in a crazy place elsewhere. Finally, she grabbed for her phone and feverishly dialled her friends. Again and again, she heard the friendly, familiar tone of her friends reproduced in a repeating loop tell her, sorry, she wasn't available but if she left a name and message, she'd call her right back.

Finally, she got through to Sally-Anne and to her inexpressible relief, Sally-Anne's calm tones answered in a real voice. Immediately she gabbled away.

"Thank God you're here. Look, I need your help. I've just received this letter from Fenner and it's driving me crazy..."

"Hold on Karen. I'm only too willing to help but please slow down, slow down. Keep calm, take a seat and explain what's happened," Sally-Anne said in the calmest tone of voice she could summon up. To her way of thinking, Karen sounded in a real state. Her intervention had its effect.

"OK, I've just received a letter from Jim Fenner written two days before he died on June 20th 2002 that's been sent on from my last two addresses and has just reached me. He sounds in a state and wants me to help," Karen said in a more level, controlled tone of voice as she sat down on the sofa.

"OK Karen, just read out the letter, slowly and calmly so I can get the sense of it."

Sally's shrewd advice had its of hearing the way Fenner might have spoken and being deceived by the self pity and emotional manipulation, turned off that voice within her head. Instead, Karen read the letter out slowly as if it were a news broadcast. As she spoke, every falsity came back into her mind and the way that Fenner had tried to stitch her up for a cold blooded murder which would have seen her behind bars and Fenner still working at Larkhall Prison, possibly a Wing Governor at last with all the scope for abusing his position.

"And you really believe all that shit?" Sally said in acid tones. Karen could hear Trisha in the background and as Karen's breathing returned to normal, she could hear Trisha hooting in derision in the background.

"The lying manipulating bastard," Karen exclaimed in passionate disgust just as she noticed that Beth had quietly opened the door and had heard the tail end of the conversation. "I can't tell you enough how I incredibly appreciate your help for just being there. I won't forget it and I'll do anything in return."

"I know you would darling," Sally-Anne's incredibly warm voice sounded in her ear. "Was that your beloved coming through the front door."

"It sure is. I won't keep you any longer as I know you've got things to do and I can see Beth's ears flapping," Karen replied with a broad grin, her blue eyes twinkling at her lover.

"Cheeky madam," exclaimed a laughing Beth in huge relief. As she'd entered the door, she saw Karen clenching her mobile phone tightly to herself and an expression of stress and confusion on her face. She took her coat off and waited patiently for her lover to settle down as she knew that she'd hear the whole story.

"Take a look at this load of shit,"Karen said grimly."The worst of it, and I blush to say it, is that for a fraction of a second, I was starting to believe it, after all he'd put me through."

"You make this basstard seem like an addiction that you're well shot of," observed Beth, laying her hand on her partner's. Karen reached out to her lover, kissed her deeply and drew her down to the sofa on top of her. She loved the feel of her lover's sleek dress, her soft skin and the perfume she wore. She couldn't get enough of her and by the way her body moved against Karen's, it looked as if their evening meal was going to be seriously delayed...

A couple of hours later, Karen determined that there was one fitting act she was going to perform..

"You might think I've cracked but something I must do. I need a plate, my cigarette lighter and possibly a jug of water to be on the safe side."

Beth fetched the objects without question and set them on the table. She had a shrewd idea of what was coming next. She was relaxed about the matter.

"I need Fenner's bloody letter," Karen said in defiant tones, as she folded it several times into a rough pyramid and reached for her lighter.

"I'm not sure if the bastard is rotting in hell but, in case he isn't, I'm going to enact this symbolically. I think there are enough folds in it without it being a health and safety risk."

"You do it, darling," Beth said softly. "Do it for yourself."

Very deliberately, Karen applied the flame of the lighter to the base of the pyramid. Very quickly, the flames took hold and red and yellow tongues of flame ran up the paper and toppled it over. With a whoosh and an evil smelling black odour, the paper was consumed and, with it, the last of the man's lies and deception went up in smoke. Karen stared at the flames burning out the last vestige of a hold over her and smiled in a childlike fashion at Beth who squeezed her hand. She understood.

"What a bastard," Trisha exclaimed when Sally-Anne told her the full story. "Still, I'm glad that you were there to help Karen out. She deserved better - and Beth also."

"Have you come across any women who are real disaster areas, who are really bad for your head? You know my only experience of women has been you."

"And aren't I delectable?" Trisha teased jokingly. The incident had left them in high spirits and they were dressing up, ready to open up the club.

"Come on, I'm serious babes," Sally said appealingly as she sat on their bed to put on her favourite black high heeled shoes.

Trisha looked thoughtfully for a moment as she finished off her makeup in the mirror and thought back over her past. Before she started living with Nikki, she had done the rounds of the lesbian scene and likewise after they had parted. Before she had met Nikki, she had engaged in casual relationships which had been sexually fulfilling but with no thought of long term commitment and, sooner or later, they had come across personality incompatibilities. After she and Nikki broke up, every girlfriend came up against the inevitable handicap of not offering the depth of relationship that she'd known with Nikki- until she'd met Sally-Anne. She couldn't say that any of her exes were actually evil. As she cast her mind far and wide, she recalled Nikki intervening on Alice's behalf over Becky Elliott. Now there was a woman who was seriously warped in her thinking who threatened to drag any woman down who got enmeshed in her perpetual dramas. Nikki had spotted that Alice was in danger of being undone by her large heart, in having her head spun round in different details.

"The nearest I can think of was Becky Elliott who is Alice's ex. She was one half manic deprressive, one half neurotic. If Nikki hadn't stepped in, I had thought of barring her from the club. God help any woman who ends up with only thing I can't accuse her of is being coldly calculating like this Fenner guy was like, to hear Nikki and Helen speak of 's good and bad in all communities, I suppose."

"Talking of Nikki and Helen, they're really serious about having a baby."

Trisha laughed as she ran a brush through her shoulder length blond was intent on beautifying herself, aware of her lover's admiring glances as always.

"Well, you know what they're like, babes. They might as well have a Stewart-Wade family crest emblazoned 'Where there's a will, there's a way.' I never thought there was a more single minded woman than Nikki- until I met Helen. as for me, I don't know one end of a baby from another- and I don't care to."

"The thought never really crossed my mind," Sally-Anne said lightly.

"You'd better brush up on the knitting you learnt at school in knitting bootees or whatever you call them. I know what a planner Helen is for a start and I'm surprised we haven't been given our marching orders," teased Trisha relentlessly.

"You know I'm hopeless at things like that," Sally exclaimed, tossing a random article of clothing at her."Give me woodwork tools and , well wood of course, and I might remember how to make a crib. You're the fluffy and feminine kind."

"I look more the conventionally feminine type but you should know, sweetheart, that I'm into buying clothes and makeup but I always got bored at that kind of thing." Trisha retorted, approaching her partner from behind and wrapping her arms round the dark-haired woman. Sally Anne murmured in appreciation as she felt her lover's lips kiss her neck.

"And pleasuring your girlfriend,"Sally Anne sighed, trying to feel round at the back of her to get her hands on her lover. Not having any luck that way, she twisted round to receive her lover's full embrace.

"Darling, we'd really better get our hormones under control," said Trisha at last, disengaging herself from Sally-Anne's mouth with feelings of frustration, duty just about winning over pleasure. "It's Saturday night so when the club's closed, we can carry on this very interesting conversation where we left off. In the meantime, I'd better fix my lipstick and we'll open up. Right darling?" Trisha finished, turning the full force of her bewitching charm on Sally Anne.

"Right we are," agreed Sally Anne, repairing her own lipstick before linking arms for tonight's party to start.


	18. Chapter 18

**Scene Eighteen**

As Alice continued to stare sightlessly out of the window at her place of work, gently rotating round on her swivel chair, she felt the aftershocks of the crazed stabbing of Mrs Elliott continue to shake her foundations.

It was late at night when Alice finally dragged herself home. Her professional obligations compelled her to drive along with the ambulance to oversee Mrs Elliott's admission to hospital. It took an eternity of time to confirm that she was going to be kept overnight in St Mary's for observations. She couldn't stop herself from fidgeting while she waited to hear the news so that a blond-haired nurse on duty held back from greeting her as she might have done otherwise. When she finally tore off down to the police station, she was kept waiting an eternity in reception while Becky had been held in a basement cell until the police were ready to cross examine her at desperately wanted to accompany Becky while she was being interviewed under caution if only because she felt responsible for setting up the meeting in the first place. However, this application was forcefully refused by the sergeant in charge and Alice was helplessly aware of her lack of official status . It was only when her professional self gradually took command when she reluctantly went against the grain of her passionate nurturing instincts that no good was going to come of hanging round a cold, desolate police station with the wind whipping past the thick glass of the double swing doors.

"What's happened darling?" asked George in a deeply concerned voice, gently embracing Alice as she virtually collapsed through the front sharp eye spotted how pale and drawn her partner was and the obvious agitation in her manner.

"I've been round to visit Mrs Elliott, you know the manic depressive old lady who was badmouthing her daughter. I'd thought that this was some kind of paranoid fantasy and I fixed up to see both of them together and guess what, it was Becky who came through the door."

"Oh no. That must have been horrible," exclaimed George in horror, conjuring up the picture of two emotionally warped women antagonistically locked together in a primal mother daughter clash of personalities. It made the years of her own daughter Charlie's alienation from her,calling her the 'ice maiden' to John, seem restrained and civilised by comparison. "Sit down with me on the settee and tell me what happened, darling. You have my complete attention."

In short, ragged sentences torn out of raw emotions, Alice explained the traumatic shock of how the stabbing unreeled itself from nowhere, like a runaway cine projector gone mad. At the back of George's mind, her barrister's instincts were beginning to see how this was starting to stack up.

"I have to speak up for Becky when the case comes up in court," Alice said with blind desperation, as if she weren't in control of her own thought processes. "No matter how badly behaved Becky has been, she isn't violent. I owe it to her for old times' sake. You understand how I feel, George. She's a friend," Alice pleaded.

In a lightning flash, the blond-haired woman was already seeing just where this was heading. A sick feeling lodged at the pit of her could she say to her that didn't sound harsh, unfeeling? George knew beyond doubt that there was trouble ahead.

"I'm in a difficult situation, Alice. You know and I know that I cannot see Becky the same way that you do. If I remember correctly, not so long ago, she persuaded you to visit her because she had been going through some bad experiences. Knowing how kind-hearted you are, she tried to seduce you and when you didn't reciprocate, she became verbally abusive and so you had to get out of the house to come back to me."

Alice never realised how much effort George put in to talk in as deliberately non offensive fashion as she could summon up and cut out every touch of abusive comment about Becky, that sly, conniving, drunken, manipulating tart for whose sake her Alice's kind hearted nature was in real danger of being taken advantage of. Why should she get dragged into some senseless drama?

**"**You have to make allowances for her. My eyes have been opened by the way her mother reeled me in and set everything up for this disaster to 's not to blame for the way she's turned out."

George abruptly got up, clenched her fists and strode round the front room as rising anger and fear rose up inside her. She could feel Alice slipping away from her. God, what a demonic influence this woman has over her by playing the weak, helpless damsel in distress. It was a role that had always repelled her and even when she had gained new understanding, that side of her had never changed. None of their friends at Chix ever dreamed of playing those sort of games.

"Alice, at the risk of saying the obvious, this is already a police matter and eventually will be for the courts to decide. I know that persuading damaged people to get onto the right path is your speciality and vocation but the inside of a criminal court is mine,"George replied in a tone of voice which she fought with all her strength of will to sound restrained and logical.

"Don't talk about court cases. Haven't you got feelings?" Alice flashed, feeling that her partner was mentally pushing her too fast, too soon into the witness box when this wasn't what she wanted. George darted towards her handbag and lit up greedily, consciously using this device to gain time to think.

"Darling, do you really, honestly want to know how I feel about the situation?" said George sharply, suddenly unmasking her pent up feelings. It was only then that Alice's training finally kicked in to get her to see beyond the boundaries of her own mental till then, her thought processes had been totally derailed.

"You'd better get what you feel off your chest," Alice said flatly. "We can't act like characters out of a 1940s Ealing film."

"All right, Alice I love you to distraction. I always have done ever since I first saw you on the dance floor at Chix and always will. Living with you is one of the best things I've ever done in my life. The trouble is that we're not carbon copies of each other. I simply cannot feel the sympathy for this woman as you still do and I can't think of her as the innocent victim."

"It's because you're jealous of her," Alice found herself firing back at , what have I let loose, she thought for a second as she feared that her partner's emotions would finally could feel the tension emanating from her partner in waves of passion.

"A more accurate word to pick is insecure," George retorted with spring heeled precision, making it perfectly clear to Alice that this was the real thing. "Especially as she still has the knack of being able to press buttons on you that should have been disconnected long ago. I'm not saying she's guilty of wounding her mother like you think I feel. Just because I dislike her doesn't mean I think she's the devil incarnate."

Alice stood open-mouthed as George spoke in very precisely articulated tones . It had never occurred to her that this very gorgeous, super confident woman could be insecure about anything. She had been hyper-sensitive to her partner being too dismissive of someone whom Alice saw as a victim of society as much as any of her clients were. Her profession was adamently opposed to superficial, judgmental loudmouths of society who despised her profession in their ignorance and it was only now that Alice realised that she'd questioned whether or not George's sympathies were more than skin deep. In one blinding moment, George showed incredible generosity of spirit and Alice fell in love with her all over again.

"There's so much about you that I didn't realise. I mean you don't owe Becky any favours. That's to say, I really love you, George." George gave a half smile at Alice's very endearing awkwardness and impulsively hugged the dark haired time as they held each other, their bodies felt as if there was no strain or tension between them.

"Look here, darling, you've had a dreadful day. Suppose you sit with me on the settee and we'll take it easy. I'll knock up something quick later," George said in her old familiar tender manner. A rush of feelings swept through Alice that her lover was back with her again. She felt weak at the knees partly through sheer mental exhaustion.

"We could order a takeaway," Alice murmured, the tiniest trace of a smile on the corners of her lips.

"Never," pronounced George with perfect aplomb. "It's against my principles."

Alice let George take her by her hand and lead her to the feeling of sanctuary that she most wanted and the house felt like home again.

"Darling," Alice asked a couple of hours later on as she lay full length across the sofa and George's lap. The lights cast a dim glow and she could look up at the comforting dark shadows in the corners of the living room and, most of all, at her beautiful lover looking tenderly down on her.

"You're really worried about me standing up in the witness box giving evidence for Becky. It's not just on her account, is it?"

"So long as you never, never tell our friends how much I was in frightful tizzy about Becky. I have a reputation to maintain," George answered in her most playful tones, smiling down at her lover and feeling more secure than ever before. God, she must have been possessed earlier on and it was a wonder that she stayed so controlled.

"I promise," came the gentle answer as Alice gently stroked her lover's hand. Both sighed with happiness feeling normality return.

"I admit that she's not exactly a worthy cause but the problem is this. One way or the other, the knife entered Becky's mother's arm. They were both fighting for possession for the knife. Were both of them trying to stab the other, was one trying to disarm the other or was there some other explanation?"

"I'm sure it wasn't Becky's doing," Alice said promptly." At least I mean I know how dysfunctional she is but trying to kill her mother breaks new ground for her."

"Is that you speaking as a professional social worker or you talking as Becky's ex- lover? I'm talking as if I were the opposing barrister."

Alice remained silent, feeling cold inside. She hated to admit it but this had never crossed her mind before.

"You're going to be asked about your background to the case and I can't see your past relationship with Becky not coming out. I don't mind that personally but you have to understand that if you are rooting for Becky, your professional impartiality will be impugned.I can see traps ahead that are so obvious."

"So had you worked all that out earlier on? Are you that much of a superwoman to have worked all that out when you had your own feelings to deal with?"

Alice amazed and respectful reply made the fair haired woman laugh softly in reply as the dim light. She looked and sounded gorgeous and Alice continued to stroke her lover's hand.

"Hardly that. I started to mull over the ideas when I was making dinner.I'd calmed down by then so I was able to put my thinking cap on."

Alice was surprised by George's surprisingly nonchalant description of her demonstration of incisive thinking. It was starting to dawn on her that it was as well that one of them was thinking clearly. As she looked at her lover, she knew that the combination of beauty, intellect and compassion was what she really wanted in her life, not acting as mother to some spoiled child.

"Come here," whispered Alice starting to move around on the sofa. "I want to kiss you- for a very long time."

"That sounds like such a good idea,"George answered in her sultriest tones, her body moving around to accommodate Alice whose sole aim was to end up on top. That suited her so fine, George reflected as their mouths met for a long passionate kiss.

As Alice finally brought herself up to date with the present that morning she was still sitting sightlessly at her place of work. Five minutes had elapsed since she'd gone into a trancelike state, glad of finally making sense of her situation now that she'd relived it all. Her computer had been switched on and the blank screen had told her she hadn't even logged on so a colleague of hers shouted over to her.

"Is there anything wrong Alice? You look really off colour."

Alice shook her head decisively. While she'd been reliving the traumatic events, she probably had gone white with horror at the trap she had come close to falling into but hadn't because her very forgiving and understanding lover had pulled her back from the brink. What she was nervous about was the certain knowledge that her manager had told her to report to his office at nine-thirty and the interview wasn't going to be pleasant. He was sure to sift through the events with a fine tooth comb and it was certain to come out that she'd been in a relationship with Becky Elliot. That in itself wasn't going to go against her but her failure to put two and two together and realise that the meeting was wide open to blowing up spectacularly in her face was an unavoidable conclusion. How could she say that she had tried to expunge all thought of Becky from her mind after the way she'd tried to drag her into one of her little dramas previously? On the face of it, she should have made the connection but there were very good emotional reasons why she'd almost refused to make that link. The trouble was that, in terms of her professional obligations, her defence was insubstantial.

An hour later, Alice came out of the manager's office, her self-esteem shredded. She wanted to bury herself away somewhere and get home as soon as she could and to be wrapped up in George's arms to be reassured that all her bad feelings about herself would go away.

"I'm all for equal opportunities as you well know and you can be absolutely assured that your relationships are thought of in a neutral, non-judgmental fashion..."

Thanks a bundle, Alice had thought resentfully. This arid attempt to be politically correct sounded puny compared with the way that John and Joseph joyfully accepted her presence as George's lover, that she was welcome round their houses come Christmas and Charlie thought that she was really cool. That kind of warm friendship mattered far more to her than an hour's worth of platitudes whose purpose was surely to safeguard him from discreet attacks on her lifestyle.

"...but you simply cannot let your personal entanglements get in the way with the performance of your duties. All of us have certain standards to uphold."

"All this belonged to my past. My present lover is the love of my life, someone I want to grow old with," Alice argued passionately in one fleeting moment of self-assertion."She's a high court barrister who has got her own standards of behaviour to maintain."

"Indeed," the man had said without any trace of emotion. "I hope everything works out for the best but the fact remains of the serious lapse in your professional judgment. No formal disciplinery action will be taken but you can be assured that this will go down on your record..."

Alice's heart had sunk. She had been shifted back onto ground where she had felt weakest. The meeting had gone from bad to had the prospect of Becky Elliott's trial coming up and, despite the reassurances of her friends at Chix last night, she did not feel good about herself.


	19. Chapter 19

**Scene Nineteen**

At four months pregnancy, Helen was still happy to carry on working up till the date when she'd planned to take maternity leave and already, it was transforming her relationship with her work. She was becoming more conscious of the changes her body was going through, having passed through the obligatory morning sickness stage. She knew that she had licence to indulge whatever strange food cravings came her way, floating along through life without the slightest qualms of embarrassment as Nikki never turned a hair. She knew that her awareness was ahead of Nikki's of the reality of being a prospective mother as she was living the experience while Nikki was left with reading up about it as best she could. Such divergence didn't matter as she knew that sooner or later, Nikki would catch up with her even if she didn't know it yet. Helen's serenity was something she'd heard about and considered as impossibly overrated romanticism but was pleasantly surprised to find out was real. She was a little nervous about the swirling patterns of mythologies of labour pains of what actually having a baby was going to be like but, even as her busiest, Nikki's kindly smile and her hand laid on her shoulder told her what her remarkable partner was thinking all, Helen knew that as always Nikki was batting for them both.

She had seen during the month or so how her partner had come home tired from working on the planning for her Annual General Meeting and was enormously pleased that, once again, her talents were being recognised and validated. It might have been possible for Nikki to slip into junior executive mode of thinking without a conscious plan but Helen knew that all it took was the soft look in her partner's direction to stop her from sliding off in that direction. Something in Nikki's nature always kept her grounded and immune from worldly temptations so that she would muck in with whatever job round the house that needed doing but, especially, it meant that her nurturing care remained devoted to their back garden. The beginning of November meant that this work was definitely scaled down now that Nikki had done all the pruning and everything else had shrunk into itself ready for winter.

"Sweetheart, there's one question about you that I've never asked," Helen called out as she saw Nikki gazing out through the kitchen window at the rain spitting down and the grey clouds swirling overhead.

"That can't be possible darling," Nikki sang out lazily as she felt Helen place a steaming hot mug of coffee just the way the dark-haired woman liked it. "You know everything about my life."

"It's perfectly simple," Helen said cheerily with her most winning smile. "I wondered if you've always loved gardening. We've visited your parents often enough and they've mentioned often enough how much of a tomboy you were as a kid but not about you pottering around in their back garden."

Nikki laughed loudly as the absurd explanation came back to her. She savoured the delicious irony of life's random choices.

"You'll laugh when I tell you this one. I got the gardening job as a way of Fenner stopping me knowing too much. It suited me as it kept me out of his way and I still got to know what was going funny thing was that I ended up really getting into gardening. I'd never done it before, certainly not when I was at home. The stupid thing was that I was obvious library red ban material," and here Nikki laughed at the irony of the situation, "but Fenner gave the job to some blonde tart he fancied for obvious reasons till he had her shipped out when Dockley came on the scene."

"So when you first lured me into the Arts Block for a kiss and cuddle...," exclaimed Helen with a grin on her face. "...It wasn't just to give our hormones a bit of a break but an 'up yours' to Fenner. I like it," she finished with enormous satisfaction in her voice and a wicked grin on her face as she draped her arms round Nikki's neck. "My curiosity is now satisfied."

A day or two after this conversation, she dialled her partner out of a sudden impulse, to have a chat to see how she'd got on from her second visit to see the very individual Kristine Thorne.

"So how have you got on with your genius academic friend?" Helen started to say in teasing tones. "Or do you want a couple of strong painkillers from having your brain drastically expanded?"

"Pretty well as a matter of fact," Nikki said in reflective tones which Helen knew understated the situation by a mile. "I think I'm starting to learn to keep up with her. We came up with a lot of interesting ideas which has given me a lot of food for thought- or rather she's been sharpening up my ideas a bit. She is coming to our AGM so others are sure to hear what she has to say about prison reform."

Helen opened her mouth in wonder. She had never known Nikki blow her own trumpet but she knew very well that her partner was very conscious of being an independent thinker and was utterly confident in holding her own in any company. Their friendship with the legal profession meant that both she and her partner had added another string to their bows not to mention the way both of them had become formidable adverseries to opposing barristers in knew, above all, that her partner had finely attuned antenna that kept her perpetually searching for that something she could never describe to herself and, from her account, her new friend was very much of an intellectual stimulus who challenged her unspoken assumptions about her place in the world. Helen knew that, however lacking in vanity that her partner was, it was an incredibly hard accomplishment for so centred a woman to admit to this.

"In fact, darling, I'm driving her over to sample some of our hospitality She's bringing her guide dog, Jules over. He wants watching as much as she does. We'll be home in a couple of minutes time as I'm driving the car," Nikki said dryly, accompanied by the background sounds of human laughter and excited barking sounds.

Meantime, Helen shook her head affectionately as she started to wonder what was in store for her. Her curiosity was so thoroughly aroused so she quietly slipped her coat on , buttoning it high up to the neck in view of the piercing cold outside and, sure enough, she could pick out the sound of their Peugeot gradually approaching.

While Nikki gallantly opened the passenger door, a large imposing woman emerged from the car ,her left hand grasping the harness that connected her to the mischievously disciplined Labrador dog which mysteriously pointed her in the direction of the front steps to their flat. Helen's eyebrose rose at the imperious gesture with which Kristine declined Nikki's oversolicitous offer of help.

"Thank you, Nikki but I'm fine. You evidently have never really studied a guide dog in action,"Kristine said politely but firmly.

"Err, I suppose I haven't," answered a flustered Nikki before she hastily added. "By the way, there's a flight of steps in six steps time which leads you up to the front door."

"Thank you, Nikki. I did need to know that," the other woman answered graciously. Both women's mouths hung open to see the faultless coordination between human and dog as Jules was instantly reined in so that they both effortlessly climbed the short flight of steps and through their open door. Nikki ran her fingers through her short fringe in a distracted fashion. She had never anticipated that the normal routine journey from the University of London to her flat could be a real eye opener. Lesson number one was the startling revelation that the boring automated voice on the lift actually served a highly practical purpose for Kristine in navigating her way round the university since Jules was hardly expected to verbally translate for fact that this hadn't occurred to Nikki before made her feel incredibly stupid.

They made their way to the living room and Nikki graciously gestured to Kristine to take the armchair when Helen whispered under her breath,"Kristine can't see or have you forgotten?"

"Oops," Nikki confessed while Kristine smiled and turned to fuss over Jules who'd sat quietly in the car, being ever so good. He'd sniffed his way round the flat, deduced that his new temporary home felt comfortable and was worthy of being adopted by him .Helen who had grown up in her father's manse in a remote, country area of Scotland, automatically went over to Jules who wagged his tail excitedly, lapping up all the attention that was his rightful reward in this world.

"Do you want a drink, you and Jules?" Nikki offered, to receive a warm-hearted smile in return. It wasn't often when she visited other people's houses that guests thought to include Jules.

"Fruit juice for me is fine, if that's possible and as for Mister Man here, he could do with a large bowlful of water."

Helen obliged by getting a cereal bowl out of the drawer. After noisily drinking up the water from these two humans who had the right set of priorities, he curled himself up on the floor as best as a large dog could do, once his presence had been established, both to himself and to his audience.

"You don't have to worry, Nikki. In fact I love it when sighted friends of mine forget that I can't see," Kristine said in the friendliest tones. "An ex of mine whom I'm on friendly terms with points out the brown haired woman on television to me and that sets us off laughing at the very appealing little mistake."

As both women had settled down in the armchairs, Helen was better able to take in their guest. From hearing Nikki talk of her, she imagined that Kristine could be a little scary but her sixth sense whispered inside her that this was down to her being forthright and, if you passed her test of being real and seeing past superficial stereotypes,you were home and dry. She was certainly a large woman in every respect, something that she'd never come across before especially by contrast with the slim elegant women at Chix. She challenged preconceptions of what a woman should look like. Kristine wore a calf to ankle length skirt with a plain long sleeved top which conveyed shape to her large breasts. Her face was pleasing and was framed by a slightly auburn bob of hair with large brown eyes which didn't focus on her in the normal tuned into the woman's voice which was clear, cultured with the merest touch of north country accent. Helen finally assimilated the other woman's passing aside about her sexuality which made her sit up and take notice as that hadn't crossed her mind either. She realised that she'd never taken Alison Moyet's persona seriously enough even though she played her music on their CD player from time to time.

"You've obviously climbed to the heights of academia, further than Nikki or I have," Helen said in an aminated fashion. "So how does a blind woman manage it?"

"I was lucky in going to a special boarding school that really encouraged us to be independent. The teachers were dedicated to treating us as individuals, that there was a way of working around a situation if you were not sighted so long as you looked hard enough. It encourages an independent outlook on life and it gave me that most precious gift, self-confidence. For instance, I was trained at an early age to use a computer though I can write tags for Christmas presents. I'm informed that my handwriting is just about legible," Kristine explained with a light laugh."I obtained grade 8 in flute and singing when I was 18 and went on skiing trips three times when I was at secondary school..."

"Skiing?" Nikki said, her eyes almost popping out of her skull. "You must understand that we're new to all this. I can imagine you singing and playing the flute but skiing goes right past me."

Kristine laughed heartily in sensing the amazement in the voices of the two women who heard her story. The fact that they were willing to make the effort to see things her way made her feel very comfortable here.

"It's the most thrilling feeling of zooming down a mountainside, not being afraid of anything, living were plenty of teachers on hand to make sure we didn't collide into anything serious. When we went to bowling alleys, they arranged for inflatables to line the gutters on either side. Once I was pointed in the right direction, I managed. What the others in the bowling alley thought of us, we really couldn't care less."

Nikki broke into a warm open smile and her eyes lit up. This woman was definitely someone after her own heart. The words could have been written for both of them. Helen laughed heartily and their friend picked up the sympathetic vibrations coming from them, being keenly attuned to atmosphere.

"Nikki has told me that you're starting a family. That must take a lot of guts," Kristine observed in her direct style.

"Helen thought of the idea originally and persuaded me into it with her feminine wiles," Nikki replied, shrugging her shoulders in self deprecation, a wry smile clearly audible to their friend. "Our friends have been brilliantly supportive of us."

"This is the most important decision of our lives," interjected the irrepressible Helen enthusiastically. "We are going to be such dedicated mothers."

"That's not within my scheme of things," Kristine said a little abruptly before softening her tone of voice. "I'm not into long term now, I have the golden opportunity to pursue my career. Some of my friends are not so lucky as a lot of firms simply won't go through the hassle and expense in converting their work environment to suit blind people."

"You won't find that many places that will happily take on ex-cons, especially when the tabloids have done their worst to their public reputation. Lesbian cop-killer doesn't exactly go down a bomb," shot back Nikki.

"Come on, let's have a bit of peace,"interjected Helen, her dormant Wing Governor's instincts suddenly rising to the fore. "I can't deal with two strong minded women in the same room, going at it hammer and tongs."

"Darling, as if you're Ms Meek and Mild," retorted Nikki wanted to take the heat out of the situation as it was obvious that she and Kristine have had their crosses to bear but, for the first time, it occurred to her that her 'ex con' tag was a thing of the past. Kristine's blindness would be there for her always. She saw that the other woman picked up immediately on what they were doing.

"Nikki and I can come over as being so centred on raising a family that we're in danger of coming over as ridiculously romantic and starry-eyed as any other prospective parents do. It's just another instance of us doing something that even if some right wing bigot started badmouthing us in the street, we'd walk on by, thinking that he or she is not so much wrong as absurd."

" 'Not so much wrong but absurd'," repeated Kristine repeated to herself."I love that line.I'm obviously glad that you've both obviously found what you're looking for in life. I'm different. I have a circle of friends, both male and female whom I sleep with from time to time."

"Oh," Helen said, not knowing what else to say except this trite remark.

"So you think that blind people don't have sex?" challenged Kristine, a knowing smirk spreading all over her face.

"Of course not," Nikki protested a blush spreading across her face which belied her statement. "Curiously enough, I've never had experience of women who are genuinely bi. Many years ago, I had lousy experience of affairs with straight women who used me as an experience before going back to the security of playing games with their boyfriends."

"That's really terrible Nikki," Kristine said compassionately. "I'd never ever do that to any friend of mine."

"Men have never been my flavour but it's one of life's ironies that I have more male friends than I've ever had in my life. Take Paul Williams. my boss who's as intuitive as any woman I've ever known. Another is John Deed, the very charismatic and fearless judge who's done so much good in the world, for me, Helen and our friends..."Nikki quietly reasoned, her voice fading off as she reminisced about such a turbulent chapter in their lives and her mind started floating off in a completely random direction. "You know something, Kristine. The first thing you notice about him is his voice. It's very melodious, very cultured and expressive but of course, he's very bright and sharp-witted. The combination of that and his greying good looks must make him very irresistable for a woman who's on the opposite side of the wire from Helen and I."

"You make him sound irresistably attractive, Nikki. I very much tune into peoples voices as they tell me much more than sighted people ever notice."

It was those understated words that expressed Kristine's very creative inquisitive imagination that would never go to sleep, wherever she might be.


	20. Chapter 20

**Scene Twenty**

It was an ordinary shift to Karen and only coincidence had decided that she had been detached back to the Accident and Emergency wing of St Mary' was where she had started when she'd been first taken on as a permanent after working as a 'bank nurse' at all sorts of nursing establishments, including St Mary's, Larkhall Prison and various care homes.

"Karen, I have some news for you that I hope you won't take amiss," Mark Williams had said to her, the besuited charmer in charge of the nurses. Karen had turned her attention to the man with a sigh. She had learned very quickly that this older man with a grown up daughter had the gift of the gab and fancied himself as still irresistable to women. Once she had laid it down the line that her sexual interests lay in a totally opposite direction, they had come to an amicable working relationship especially as she knew the guy was capable enough. He had a very irritating habit of making a mountain out of a molehill , imagining all sorts of tricky emotional situations whereas he would be far better employed to cut out the crap. By contrast, his daughter,Chrissie Williams, was Karen's immediate senior ,the Ward Sister who had summed her up in a second so incisively the first day she ever worked there as 'old school.' They got on like a house on fire from the moment they met as they were both no-nonsence blondes with strong personalities.

"So what's the problem, Mark? I'm due to start my shift - with Jac Naylor on duty as well," Karen replied sharply. Normally,the man wouldn't allow any cheek from his nurses but Karen's maturity and obvious experience had placed her in a position where she could take minor liberties, especially as they agreed on how ruthlessly ambitious and selfishly domineering the senior registrar was. Unknown to them, Chrissie Williams had strolled down the ward and pretended to be preoccupied with her clipboard while making obvious her amusement at her father's expense at his inadequate attempt to be masterful and dominating. Dad, don't you ever learn, she thought to herself.

"I can help you out in this case. Do you have any objection to being loaned out to Accident and Emergency for a couple of weeks as they've been running short-handed."

"So why two weeks?"questioned Karen, with raised eyebrows.

"Because that is the time it will take for the paperwork to go through for the replacement nurse to transfer from one of the Birmingham hospitals and there's no chance of budgets to allow for a bank nurse. Believe me, I double checked as I don't want a temporary loan to start stretching itself out indefinitely."

"I was only asking Mark. Just to satisfy my curiosity, that's all," Karen replied in a bantering tone, a misleading look of innocence on her face.

"Be off with you. The day management finally wake up to the fact that you could run this hospital, I'll eat my...tie," Mark said in mock scolding tones, grasping for a modern version of the traditional metaphor while he was patently lapping up all this female attention. Karen had gained a form of promotion in being allowed to mildly take the piss out of him.

"Well said, Karen. The trouble is that while you're gone, there's only me to make sure my dad's kept in his place," broke in Chrissie, her hands on her hips in a familiar stance. Mark held up his hands in a 'What can I do about this?' gesture, sensibly opting for a silent reply rather than being ganged up on by these two strong women.

The night that made Karen sit up and take notice wouldn't have been that extraordinary for Friday night when the pubs and clubs disgorged their share of tanked up men and women who were aggressively looking for a fight with anyone, no matter the reason or alternatively, were found flat out drunk somewhere and having to be picked up by the long suffering ambulance service. It was a strange sign of the times that women these days were as bad as the men, being part of the 'ladette' is the other side of the coin, mused Karen to herself, from those landing up in prison. The likes of Al McKenzie,Tina Purvis, Denny Blood and Shell Dockley and others might have been amongst these drunken hordes several years ago so that the shifts she did on Friday nights brought her life round full circle.

Karen's musings were cut short as her long strides took her to the end of the long corridor and to battle stations, or so she sensed. She found out that she wasn't far wrong as two ambulances whipped in to the parking bay at exactly the same time. Karen caught a glimpse of two paramedics bringing in the first stretcher which was swiftly logged in as a domestic quarrel between mother and daughter resulting in a knife wound to the upper arm which was going to require stitches. What transfixed her was the sight of the distraught woman with normally long elegant black hair that was tossed awry. She knew she'd seen that face before. With a sudden shock of recognition, she realised it was Alice. What on earth was she to do with this Mrs Elliott, an elderly woman unless she was one of her clients?

"This one is Peter Gordon, aged 22, multiple fracture in a car accident, BP is 112 over 62. He'd had 5 milligrams of morphine. He's lost a lot of blood at the accident," called out the paramedic at rapid fire pace as the young man was wheeled in.

"Karen, he's going straight up to the operating theatre and you're scrub nurse with Nic Jordan operating," rapped out the ward sister, knowing that she'd jump to it.

Karen was rivited to the spot by the other accident, especially as Alice hadn't registered her presence. This was totally unlike her friend and it jarred on her that such an injury intruded into her personal life. This can't be real, she thought.

"Karen, you're wanted now," called the voice from the ward sister in sharper tones. "You're needed in double quick time or he'll chew your ears off."

Karen switched back to professional mode again. She knew where her duties called her and she scooted off towards the operating theatre. This was something of a compliment as the hard-driving consultant didn't just suffer fools gladly, he didn't suffer them at all and he valued her years of experience. All he wanted was that those who assisted during a complex operation slotted effortlessly into the supporting roles allowing his arrogant form of expertise to do what he knew he was best at, that of saving lives.

Back at the police station, Ros and Jenny were counting down the days when they would be finally reunited- in the world that claimed such a large chunk of their waking hours. The DCI had made a management decision to interchange those out on patrol with those working at the station as part of rounding experience to enhance all round experience but Ros knew that, behind all the bullshit, that bastard DI Sullivan had been as thick as thieves with the this whole very suspect plan. There were those who loved being out on patrol and got stir crazy when taken off the road and those who loved the office environment but were useless in an averagely tricky situation and never the twain should meet. The upshot was that Jenny was stuck behind the front desk at the police station bored rigid, while Ros, with greater years of all-round experience was lumbered as DI Sullivan's very reluctant sidekick. It struck them both as less than coincidental that she and Jenny were chosen first. She figured that this was a surreptitious dig at the dykes, and that those conniving bastards planned this down to the last detail.

She comforted herself with the good news that at least that bastard DI Gossard was six feet under thanks to Nikki's handiwork years only had the the guy been very creepy, he spelled trouble as there was something gangsterish about him and all the sad sacks had thought he was the cat's whiskers , that he was Superman. What she could never understand that, while she was blond and good looking, she was rather butch in her manner. In which case, why the bloody hell did Gossard think that she would fancy him? Only when she had most forcibly threatened to knee him in the bollocks as soon as he tried it on did he drop it and instead make sarcastic cracks just out of earshot that she was some kind of man-hater. She had broad shoulders and could take the continual low level harrassment and her unexpectedly large heart, shown to very few, cried out within herself when she helplessly watched Gossard entrap and sexually abuse poor Sally-Anne Howe. When she finally made contact with Chix, she was glad to offer her support in her own gruff way. It wasn't just that once a copper, always a copper, Ros thought, even if Sally-Anne wasn't really aware of the fact. There was a soppy streak in her that was glad for the way that Trisha obviously looked after her and loved her in a way that a woman needed loving. A bit like her and Jenny, she thought in a flash of sentimentality.

Returning back to the present, her background view of Sullivan confirmed that the guy had an outside ego that he had trouble getting through the door and, beneath his bluster, was as clueless as Karen, Nikki and Helen had described from their various experience of him of running up against him in you, she'd believed the word of her mates who she knew to be sharp and on the ball. As she accompanied his ever plodding, cumbersome interviews, she kept her mouth shut except when she was expected to parrot her lines agreeing with his ponderously sarcastic observations of the unlucky suspect. Secretly she worked out in her mind the line of questioning she would have followed.

One night, her imaginings came to life for real when a certain Becky Elliott was hauled in for questioning. DI Sullivan gestured to Ros with a sideways gesture of his head to accompany him. Sighing with exasperation, Ros trailed after him to receive a minimal briefing on the case so the smug bastard held all the aces in a situation where knowledge is power. She trailed into the interview room to see this very scared, nervous woman who kept fiddling with this lock of hair that trailed over the corner of her eye. If she wasn't looking so rough, Ros reckoned that she would be quite a perched herself on the chair at the corner of the table while DI Sullivan plonked himself down centre stage. He ponderously read over the caution and jumped head first into the questioning.

"Rebecca Elliott, do you know why you're being questioned?" he asked, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning into the suspect. Ros saw the look of fear cross her face, her eyes looking every which way, her endless fidgeting with her hair. Most of all, she felt the tension in her like a solid wall while DI Sullivan was smugly self assured that this woman was easy meat.

"I don't...I've done nothing wrong," she replied jerkily.

"So you know nothing about the fact that, as we speak, your mother, Mrs Elliott is in 's Hospital with a hole in her arm where your knife was stuck into it?" DI Sullivan said loudly into her face.

"It's not as easy as that. We had a terrible argument. We were fighting with each other," the woman said with a strange twist of aggression in her voice.

"I believe you. Of course I do,"DI Sullivan said with coarse sarcasm. "Don't you, Sergeant Farmer?"

"I might," Ros said in a deliberately non-committal tone of voice that drew a glare in return and this was not from Becky Elliott.

"It's all the fault of that tart of a social worker. It was all her fault," muttered Becky in an almost inaudible tone of voice, eyes downcast.

"Of course it was. Social workers are there to aggravate ordinary members of the public, aren't they. So you explain to me, Rebecca, just why in hell should a social worker do anything but her duty to the public?" DI Sullivan loudly hectored the woman. This disgusted Ros as she knew very well how this plonker had a low opinion of 'interfering do gooders, always making excuses for the scum of the earth.'

"Because she's my no good ex. She was plotting the whole thing with my mum. She took up with that blond stuck up barrister of hers. I've seen her once though she didn't see me. She's got that voice like she thinks she's the Queen of Sheba," Becky said in a much louder voice, glaring all about her.

DI Sullivan clean missed the abrupt dysfunctional change of manner that Ros felt like a tripwire to her , it exploded a light bulb in Ros's mind. There couldn't be two lesbian barristers in all of London who could be described this way than George and therefore the social worker must be Alice. Ros had heard Alice describe her ex as very screwed up and seriously bad for the head and this pithy description seemed about right.

"So the name of this social worker is Alice Swinburne, isn't it.?" Ros interjected, beating her very irritated DI to the punch. He didn't like sergeants acting smart on him.

"How did you know...?" Becky started to say, a flash of recognition in her eye that one of the two shapes in dark suits who up to then felt like some kind of Martian alien, had something in common with her outside the world of uniforms, rules and that point, DI Sullivan stepped in again with both feet.

"Look here lady, I really don't want to know about your sex life. That's for the porno magazines. I put it to you that for some wierd reason, you deliberately stabbed your own mother in the arm. Your dabs will be all over the knife and your mother will end up talking. The only things left are just why you did it and a signed confession out of you."

"That's what I want to explain if you'd listen. Look here, I might make it worth your while if I talk to the lady on her own,"Becky said sulkily, her gaze trained purely on Ros.

"Lady, you don't have the choice of who talks to you," DI Sullivan said, shouting into the woman's face.

"In that case, no comment," Becky retorted, her face shutting up like a trap.

An embarrassing silence fell on the room as DI Sullivan was figuring out what to say next and Ros wasn't going to help him out. Presently, DI Sullivan's pager alerted the man to take a message.

"Interview is suspended while DI Sullivan and Sergeant Farmer leave the room," DI Sullivan intoned, clicking off the tape which had been quietly whirring away in its casette.

"Sergeant Farmer, I've got an emergency on my plate. I'll have to drop this one which isn't going anywhere. It's just a domestic, nothing much. If I can dig up a replacement DI, can you wrap this one up and bail that crazy dyke after taking a statement, then we can decide what to do in the morning."

"What's up?" Ros couldn't resist saying.

"Your replacement have only wrapped their squad car round a lamppost in a high speed chase. I've got to pick up where they've left off," DI Sullivan said shortly, being surprisingly forthcoming. He could have said that it was none of her business but for some reason, he didn't. "They need me to sort out the mess. Who knows, we might spare you and PC Slater back on the beat? The interchange experiment was a short term arrangement anyway."

Ros suppressed her desire to jump up and down in girlish excitement as this definitely not her natural style and would irretrievably wreck her image. In any case, she wanted to know which DI would take over the case, being certain that she would be no more than an assistant once again. She listened intently as DI Sullivan had his ear glued to his mobile as he yattered away and finally he turned his attention back to Ros.

"You're getting our Ms Martin to take over the case. You bring her up to speed. You two should get on like a house on fire being the same type of women," he sneered before zooming away towards his squad car.


	21. Chapter 21

**Scene Twenty- One**

Back in the interview room, Ros felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders as she locked immediately into the quietly effective style of DI Martin, who asked her to bring her up to speed. She was all ears for Ros' impressions of the situation to date. The tall brunette had recently been transferred into this force and was beginning to make a dent on the 'old guard' that had ruled the roost for so long. Her astute manner quietly but effectively stopped guys like DI Sullivan playing games with her, possessing that inconvenient lack of sense of humour and mental agility to avoid the obvious traps. Ros knew of her very discreet girlfriend outside the force which might have explained a lot to the likes of DI Sullivan. They were puzzled that their efforts to charm her were getting them nowhere fast so they wrote her off as a cold bitch with nothing between her legs.

"Right, Sergeant Farmer, you lead off on the interview as you've been dealing with the woman and I haven't. I'll join in when I'm good and ready."

Becky Elliott jumped nervously as the door opened and looked warily at the new policewoman as she entered the room.

"Becky Elliott, I must advise you that you have no obligation to say anything but anything you say may be used in evidence in a court of law- I think I've got that right?" Ros said with a slight show of embarrassment as she stumbled over the phrasing. "I've been putting two and two together and I want to ask you a couple of questions. The first is, did you have the slightest idea that Alice Swinburne, your mother's social worker and your ex-girlfriend, was there when you called at your mother's?"

"My mother knew. I didn't," Becky said, looking Ros right in the eye.

"So just how bad was the breakup between you and Alice?"

"As bad as it gets. I was still in love with her but she didn't want to know."

"So who was first to reach for the knife, you or your mother?" Ros said in easy tones.

And so the whole story started to pour out, DI Martin gently inserting herself into the questioning once she felt comfortable with the situation. The story was clearly six of one and half a dozen of the other with two women with a love hate relationship with each other from a long way back and the act that had plunged the knife into the mother's arm had very doubtful connection with any murderous intention. DI Martin read out the statement to Becky Elliott whose suppressed rage had been gradually exhaled as the interview had proceeded and the tape was now turned off.

"Sergeant Farmer, you have the makings of a good detective if you wanted it but I know that you want to be back on the beat with PC Slater. Am I right?"

"More than anything I could ever wish for though for the first time ever, I've enjoyed sitting in on an investigation," confessed Ros frankly, a little too girlishly for her liking.

DI Martin laughed understandably at her worthy assistant's reaction and promised that she'd persuade the DCI to her way of thinking. One written off police car and two seriously injured police officers would help argue her case and Ros trotted off to the locker room.

"Do you know, babes, why I want more than ever to be driving round and round in circles round the crummiest Larkhall estates," Ros said, punctuating every fourth word by placing gentle kisses on Jenny's lips.

"I don't know why, darling but please take your time telling me," Jenny said, deftly loosening her partner's chequered tie and feeling for the buttons on her white shirt while Ros's strong arms were wound round her lover's back. Someone might enter the locker room but neither women gave a toss right then.

"It's not just because you're the best lover bar none. There isn't any other copper I'd trust more than you by my side if I was ever in a tight spot out on the beat. You're the best friend I've had in my life- ever," Ros said, the normal toughness in her voice softened as feelings of tenderness ran through her system as memories in picture form flitted through her mind of how the quieter woman was always there for her.

"Come on, we've done our shift for today. Lets go home, where we belong."

Ros replaced her police hat with the silver badge on the front and chequer tape round the brim at just the right assertive angle with so that it heightened her natural look of authority and she lazily led the way to the office where she signed for the keys to their old police car that had been reassigned for them. A smug smile of pleasure was spread across her face as she waited for the officious clerk to fill in the paperwork and for her to countersign to reclaim what was justly theirs. She slipped them into her trouser pocket and opened the back door of the police station which opened onto the car park where a row of gleaming white cars stood with red and orange flashes down the side.

Ros revved up her car very ostentatiously and grinned at her partner silently mouthing 'show off' to her. After all, if the guys can act that way, what was holding her back, a proverb that had stuck with her when she was a little girl when she had enjoyed lying in the branches of a large tree, feeling the gentle breeze blowing through the leaves.

"Sierra 69 to Control,we're heading off home now," Ros told Control.

"Just make sure you're up for your seven o clock shift," came the dry response.

"Okay, okay. We got it," Ros said in her wisecracking style. They were back in their car. A sense of light-hearted excitement stole over them. They felt free, liberated as if a burden had been lifted off their shoulders and the first thought that bubbled to the surface were given verbal expression. It might have been responsible for what happened next.

"Do you know what I want to do with you when we get home?" Jenny slyly asked her partner with an impish smile on her face. The way she savoured every syllable made Ros's imagination take instant flight.

"I really cannot tell you what you might have in store," she said very invitingly, knowingly egging Jenny on.

"I can imagine both of us stark naked, our nipples hard with desire, and me lying between your legs and licking your clitoris," Jenny said in soft, slow languorous tones,

"Your dirty talk really turns me on, gorgeous,"Ros replied, her voice noticeably husky as delicious mental images stole across her mind. A hot sensation started to spread throughout her as she could feel her partner's tongue oh so clearly."I can feel my legs wide open for you and I can feel your fingers wander all over my tits."

"Can you feel the loveliest, juiciest orgasm possible that lasts for sinply ages?"

"I can feel my tongue halfway down your throat, babes and my fingers deep inside you. You feel so warm and wet inside."

All the time, the car's engine purred softly, eating up the miles. Everything was dark outside except for the streetlights and the car headlights moving towards them from the opposite direction. All at once Jenny became aware of the car radio babbleing the brief staccato interchange of conversations between other police cars and police control. A sudden thought started to take shape which irritatingly demanded her attention in place of the delicious sexual fantasies they'd both been verbalising. It hadn't been the first time they'd done this but only when they had been off duty and off the air. Something was worryingly wrong this time...

"Ros," Jenny asked her partner in an overdone matter of fact tone of voice, "I don't suppose you're still in touch with control?"

Peals of laughter erupted inside Ros's mind and finally she exploded with laughter, clicking off the concluded that they had only been unintentionally broadcasting to the tender sensibilities of police control intimate details of their sexuality. For such a devil may care woman, she found the thought intensely amusing.

"We've only been broadcasting Radio Lesbian Kama Sutra to police control It will broaden their limited minds."

"Won't we get into trouble over this?" Jenny asked a little nervously. They had had to work hard to be accepted in the face of opposition from the homophobes in the police force and trouble they could do without or so Jenny was starting to think.

"Who cares?" Ros said carelessly as she clicked the button on her car radio."Can you imagine that wanker DI Sullivan hauling us up on the carpet and trying to explain our misdemeanours especially if we play dumb? They think we're a couple of dykes anyway so all we've done is to join up the dots for them."

"But what about when we next have to report to control?" queried Jenny.

"We smile sweetly and let them go figure out what to say. Their problem, not ours Just relax darling. Anyway, all that sexy talk had got me feeling really horny so it's time we got home, babes."

Screeching round the corner, Ros mischievously clicked on the flashing lights and siren and, shooting like lightning down the street, Ros powered their car down the main drag, other cars nervously dodging out of the way as her desires were like a boiling kettle, the lid just about holding everything down. Jenny was reassured enough for her fingers to start laughing and feel the inside of her partner's knee, restraining herself from travelling to the centre of her desires for fear of causing an unfortunate accident. They were nearly home now.

After Jo had sorted out her work for the following day, she couldn't resist phoning up Mel. She had thoroughly enjoyed going round to her place in the evening and getting mildly drunk and going on to share a pot of tea and jam scones at the cafe on a Saturday morning.

That night, when she went round to Mel's, her friend had an interesting proposition for her

"The first time you came around here, Jo you've been staring at that cherry red guitar of mine- and my bass guitar. Kind of takes you back, doesn't it?"Mel said invitingly.

"Er yes, I mean no," Jo stammered. Only Mel could get under her skin like that. "I mean, it's such a long time ago that I played in your band. I mean it would be ridiculous."

"And why? Why does the past stay in the past?" Mel said with that inviting grin. Already her strict resolution was starting to slip and Mel knew it.

"I mean, I'd been religiously practicing cello and playing it in the school orchestra. I

mean it's simply impossible."

"OK, so we give it a go. Do you wanna join my band?"Mel said softly, exerting all her charms and placing the bass guitar in Jo's hands.

Before Jo knew what was happening, Mel had kindly plugged her lead into an amplifier that she'd not noticed before. She casually slung her patterned guitar strap of her red guitar round her shoulders and plugged in herself.

"So what'll we do now? What tune do we play?"Jo asked rather nervously to be answered by a big wide smile of pure joy. In that moment, it struck Jo how dangerous and appealing her friend was and how she could never resist her. Even when her mad schemes made her nervous, it was a joy to be around her.

Surprisingly enough,Mel didn't unleash a barrage of power chords at earsplitting volume but pleasant jangly sounds filled the air which pulled the fair-haired woman's senses along with the river of music. Without thinking about it, Jo plucked out a couple of notes on the thick metal strings what buried memories told her was in harmony and she was pleased at what she heard. Mel lay back in her armchair, the picture of languid ease and nodded approvingly at the bass sounds she could feel within her. Without planning it, they were making music together again, just jamming.

A few hours later, both women lay sprawled out on the floor, empty wine bottles on the side table conveniently to hand. They were oblivious to the gentle humming sound from the amplifiers that they'd forgotten to switch off. The guitars were propped up against the settee

**"**I really had better get back to my house,"Jo said with a slurred voice."Hey, how do I get home? How did I get here?"

"You could sleep in the spare bed. You drove over and you'd be nicked for certain and I doubt if you could walk home," Mel said slowly, concentrating over every nodded sagely a number of times. She felt totally wiped out.

"You'd better help me to my feet or I'll never make it.I'm either more drunk than you or not so used to it," Jo said, trying to put her finger on the important point if only everything didn't wobble in front of her.

Somehow Mel put her arm round Jo's slim frame and helped haul her to her feet. Jo felt good with Mel's strong arms around her and her head lolled sideways against the dark-haired woman's shoulder. Joe could feel the metal zip of her friend's leather jacket against her and the feel of her body was pleasant. She felt safe and all was right with her world. She did her best to let her feet tread in a straight line while the dim sidelights swam around her in a perfect haze. Everything would be fine as long as she clung onto her friend and, sure enough, she climbed the incredibly steep steps that felt like the north face of the Eiger with her friend at her side. Finally, she made the last step, just stopping her legs buckling under her,her friend's gentle voice reassuring her.

"You will wake me up in the morning, Mel. You're so good for me," Jo said in a dreamy haze, her friend's tall shape. gradually rotating around her.

As Mel hazily looked down at her friend, she looked so sweet and appealing, her short slightly curly blond hair and the blissful smile on her looked utterly gorgeous at that moment and she lit up her life right now. She and Jo had seen a lot of each other recently and her old friend had come to mean so much to her, to fill a hole in her life. She was conscious of feelings of desire that permeated through the layers of assumptions that they saw each other as dear friends. Yes, she fiercely desired Jo right now just as much as she did in the old days but it hit her that history needn't repeat itself, that as soon as Jo was aware of her own feelings, she'd take flight. Perhaps this time around, they could put right the error of their shared past. It crossed her mind to suggest that they could improve on the idea of separate beds but realism overcame her, that only the weekend might see them consummate their budding relationship. Another night, but not this time, Mel sadly concluded to herself. Right now, she must act the part of the old friend which was partly true.

"It feels good to have you around me, babes. Night night. I'll make a cup of tea in the morning," Mel said in a sleepy tone of voice in the peace and quiet of her house.


	22. Chapter 22

**Scene Twenty Two**

It was two o'clock in the morning, and it should have been the time when Jo should have felt at her most fulfilled but she wasn't. Those of tranquil dispositions who have lived the lives of the just sleep soundly but not Jo. The truth of the matter was that she felt being completely let down by life. It contrasted cruelly with her expectations of a romantic reunion with John after weeks of his absence at Warwick University. Back in June, they had talked things over and had both agreed to take things slowly so therefore they were both bound by the agreement. Surely their long experienmce of the legal profession meant that both of them knew where they stood with each other not to mention their long association? John's temporary move to Warwick University would put that agreement to the test without either of them really trying as they carelessly believed that absence makes the heart grow fonder. When they did meet up, they would enjoy quality time together or so they planned. After all, as lovers they should also be the oldest of friends. That was the way things were supposed to be, wasn't it? So why did Jo have that feeling of letdown after John had entered her and made love to her? So why was Jo still awake, feeling vaguely unsatisfied, as if something in her life was missing? From the depths of the quilt in her bedroom, she looked out into the utter darkness of her room. Too much self examination at precisely the wrong hour of the day was doing her no good.

On Saturday morning Jo had received a phone call from John to expect him down later that day. She had been jumpy when her mobile had started beeping just after strolling back to her car after the usual tea and cakes with the warm feelings of pleasure that her old friend engendered in her clashed uneasily with the distant rosy visions of John, suddenly brought into sharp relief. Only later on would the complexities of her long term relationship start to come home to Jo.

"Oh, that's splendid," her voice had sounded with an oddly emphasised intonation into John's ear as he was trying to stuff some papers into his drawer with his free hand. "We haven't seen each other for I don't know how long. It'll be lovely to see you again."

"It will be great to get back to normality. Somehow, I feel strangely disconnected from life, being on this campus university away from the hustle and bustle of life. I don't even get a chance to row with Ian Rochester these days," John had observed drily.

"I hope you aren't equating me with that man," Jo had laughed gaily.

"I'm not in the habit of equating you with anyone," John had said, revealing in the depths of the timbre of his voice his feelings of longing for her. "You stand alone. You always have."

"Don't push it too far," Jo had bantered .She had no inhibition in plainly stating the most problematic truth about their long relationship. "You always say that when you wanted to get me into bed."

John had laughed briefly and signed off.

She knew that John lay in the other side of her bed and that he wasn't sleeping a long pause, John finally found his voice.

**"**So what's gone wrong tonight?" John questioned in that incisive way of his. "This isn't what either of us wanted."

"Why ask questions John? These things happen you know. Sometimes it doesn't help to build your expectations up too high."

This nettled John. These words could mean anything, everything or nothing. Why should life be all about aspirations being crushed? It certainly didn't apply to their professional side. Memories of their conversation that evening started to come to the surface and they demanded expression. He'd picked up that much from his friendship with Nikki and Helen.

"You kept talking about your old schoolfriend Mel Elliott, Jo," John said quietly, doing his best to sound restrained and reasonable after shaping his thoughts into words. "Of course, you're entitled to have your circle of friends and I know that old friends from far off youthful days are especially meaningful."

"But?" Jo replied, being hyperconscious of the ominous pause while John collected his thoughts as to how to phrase the tricky bit.. "You were about to say?"

"I don't see why you need to talk about her all the time. I'm highly conscious that even if I'm pouring us a cup of tea, she'll be dragged into the conversation. It's almost as if you're obsessed with her."

That word went through Jo like a jolt of electricity. John could feel it from the way his body lay against hers, side by side and regretted the choice of word. He knew very well how quickly Jo could go off the deep end whenever they'd rowed in the past.

"Obsessed? You mean that I can't talk about my best friend while you can talk about Nikki and Helen? Just what's the difference? They're friends of yours and so Mel is a friend of mine. We've seen a lot of each other recently. She cheers me up when you're 's all."

John gave the conversation up with a sigh as Jo was obviously not in a mood for self-revelation and probably not for self-examination either. He felt depressed, feeling the vast gulf between himself and Jo. By contrast, the date of Saturday June 6th 2002 was imprinted in John's mind as a wonderful moment when they, too, had shared that same feeling of close intimacy that Nikki and Helen obviously shared all the time. It was the date they slept together again after a gap of God knows how long and, supposedly, all the changes that his two dear female friends had put him through had made him a better man. Everything should have happened happily ever after.

The contrast between his dreams and the reality only depressed him further. He thought back to the evening that had just passed by and he couldn't help noticing when Jo was chattering about her side of life while he'd been away their chance meeting in the local shop that had brought them together, the times they'd spent sharing a pot of tea and scones, going round to her place for a drink. Even during their general chit chat as Jo made them a meal, she'd gratuitously drag her into the conversation for one reason or another. John had delicately avoided commentary on her friend's observations, not wanting to make any waves. He'd been on his best behaviour, only later during the course of the evening starting to romance Jo over a bottle of wine. The lights were turned down low and the atmosphere felt right.

It wasn't until they were in bed together when John realised something was wrong. He utilised all the skills he'd picked up over the years in touching and caressing the woman who had become so entangled in his life, both professionally, sexually and as a friend but she didn't respond in quite the way he had expected. Of course, she was making the right moves and uttering the right sounds but something lacked the master touch of mutual inspiration, even at the moment of penetration and final orgasm. His pleasure in lovemaking was never just about him as he had always loved the touch, sounds and feelings of a woman coming to a climax. It gave him a shared sense of completion and when that woman was Jo Mills, the romantic love of his life despite all the other women who had got in his way, it removed any feelings of sadness that lurked round the fringes of his existence. After they had finished, Jo settled herself down to sleep rather than indulge in a dreamy post orgasm conversation. It wasn't supposed to be like that. It was that lingering sense of disappointment that had woken him up at this ungodly hour. The irony of it all was that only in this one respect did both of them feel the same.

A week later, Sir Ian's life was hardly going any better than John's right now. Peter Jenkins, his contact on the Howard League of Penal Reform had dropped the bad news on him that Deed was definitely going to be guest speaker and the invitations were going out advertising this. The news threw him into a complete tizzy and what was worrying was that he'd reacted with such uncharacteristic nervous took a deep breath and tried to repeat the mantra that he had tried to serve all his adult life and that was cool, calm and collected. Cool, calm and collected. Cool, calm and collected. As he took deep breaths in and out,and lay back in his chair, he suddenly noticed that the objects on his desk weren't aligned quite right. The pen on his desk wasn't quite parallel with his in tray. The papers in his in tray weren't arranged quite right. as he looked round the walls of his office, he noticed that the pictures on the walls were a little crooked. Sir Ian leapt out of his chair and feverishly arranged and rearranged everything in his room to make everything neat and orderly so that he could feel in command of himself and his world. He never noticed how the clock on the wall ticked the seconds, then minutes by in a steady, inexorable fashion.

The jungle drums had beaten out their subtle rhythms at Chix where Trisha was chatting away to Karen over a glass of wine, The music was warm and primal and the flickering coloured lights made life feel good.

"So you're coming along as well, Trisha?" Karen retorted pertly. her blue eyes sparkling from underneath her golden fringe of hair. "I didn't think you could tear yourself from bumping up the profits from Chix."

"Oh you know. You know how it goes. It's all very well you guys to mock me when you drag home your salary at the end of the month. If the punters all give us a miss for any length of time, we're screwed."

"So why have you been promoting Nikki's big day like some kind of Madison Avenue executive? You can't deny that."

"Oh, you know, it's Nikki. She's an old mate of mine I feel duty bound to support her. If I can be any use in taking some of the stress off her what with her and Helen expecting their baby, I'll have done my bit..Besides, she's been laying some pretty heavy duty persuasion on me last time she and Helen came down here."

"So it all comes out," laughed Karen out loud making her look devilishly attractive. It made Trisha think that Beth knew what she was doing, snapping up Karen in short order the first time she came down to Chix. Her previous heterosexual existance struck the businesswoman as a sheer waste of a good woman.

"So are you going? If I don't hassle you, Nikki will next time she comes," persisted Trisha. She'd heard that Claire Walker and her husband Peter were also going but the more the merrier was her attitude in drumming up support for her old friend.

"I might do," said Karen reflectively. "Besides my day spent at Larkhall Prison as a Bank nurse, a day off work hearing discussions at the Howard League of Penal Reform AGM will be like dipping my toe in the water without committing myself to complete immersion."

_That means she'll go_, concluded Trisha with great satisfaction just at the time when Beth came with a trayful of fresh drinks which were pounced on eagerly.

"Did someone mention the Howard League of Penal Reform AGM?" Beth said brightly with an air of obvious familiarity with the topic from such a latecomer to the discussion.

"We all have darling," Karen said, her blue eyes fixed on her lover's misleading expression of innocence. "Now tell me what you know about it."

"I'm going to cover it for the Independent. You know, the newspaper that pays my salary."

"You didn't tell me that one," Karen said in tones of mock accusation, placing her hands on her hips while Trisha and Sally who had just turned up, both tried their best to suppress an outburst of giggling.

"You didn't ask sweetie. I thought you'd put aside all that handcuff stuff away in your past. Still, if you're thinking of changing your mind, I can accommodate you..." Beth purred with mischievous wit which caused Trisha and Sally Anne to explode with laughter.

"In which case, we can both mix both business and pleasure and what Beth and I get up to between the sheets remains our dirty little secret," Karen retorted, a wicked grin on her face.

At work, Nikki very carefully took personal care to copy the printed invitation to attend the AGM and e mail it as an attachment to the very special address that she had saved to ".." She watched her computer screen intently as she clicked onto the 'send' icon and saw the e mail disappear out of her computer screen and wend its way towards its destination.

At the other end of the phoneline it appeared into the host computer and into Kristine's 'in box.' She had finished delivering her last lecture before lunch where she had been in fine form. Jules had naturally wanted to be where the action was and had very kindly allowed his mistress to do the strange things that were peculiar to humans such as making human sounds for long periods at a time. Kristine had just returned from taking Jules for his lunchtime walk on the garden sized park which was conveniently situated near to the university. She let him curl himself up on his rug, feeling thoroughly content from the array of interesting smells that humans, even his mistress was oblivious to all around her. Meanwhile, Kristine sat herself down by her computer and was reluctantly settling herself to mark the essay of one of her less distinguished students when an e mail alert intoned in her ear. Normally, she would have left it to the end of her day to clear through the lot in one go when she saw it was from Nikki. Smiling fondly at her friend, she appreciated her thoughtfulness and in being a quick learner. She didn't find it everywhere in life. She had grown up to be extremely scornful of organisations who sent out their correspondence in letter form, necessitating her to seek assistance from a sighted friend to read the letter out to her. She had been known to phone up the respective organisation concerned and in tones of sweet reason asked them to explain just why their organisation couldn't either send letters out in Braille form or by e mail. As a rule, the sounds of extreme puzzlement coming down the phone told her that, once again, they couldn't get their heads round a situation that lay outside their tidy-minded bureaucratic minds. Nikki and Helen were great- they got it in one. Kristine promptly tapped out a gracious e mail reply.

"Hi Nikki. Even if this weren't your special enthusiasm and mine, I'd still come along to enjoy your company and Helen's. In the meantime, keep calm and stay safe. Everything will be all right. Kristine."

Later that evening these two women saw the soft, and very caring side of this very extraordinary woman who had picked up on Nikki's nervousness about the event.

Paul Williams on the one side and Peter Jenkins on the other were bound to be there, each likely to barely tolerate the other person's existence. Besides, Paul saw his role in gently helping his willing subordinate and catch up with Helen's welcome company while Peter Jenkins hoped that old standards would be maintained with none of that rabble-rousing nonsence that would do nobody any good.Besides, he was a natural bully given half a had seen through him within five seconds of meeting the man and Paul could satisfactorily justify to himself the few hatreds that existed within his naturally kind-hearted nature.

"I suppose you've heard about this Howard League of Penal Reform Annual General thingy," George observed in her apparently disdainful tones to Jo Mills as they gently strolled across the grand foyer of the Old Bailey, their familiar battleground.

"Of course George. I'm only surprised that you speak so disparagingly of it," Jo said in slightly irritated tones. "I'm going of course." John paced silently behind them, catching up with the two women as his rapid pace took him across the elegant chequer board design of large black and white tiles. He smiled to himself. He knew straight away that George was going but knew of old that her mischievous nature enjoyed winding Jo up by pretending otherwise.

"At one time, I would have rather been dead than subjecting myself to sitting in a cramped hall with a load of anally retentive procedure freaks. I would rather have been working out ways of getting lots of extra money to buy outrageously expensive dresses but, hey, times change. I have my newfound obligations to keep up with and of course, it's Alice's natural province as well."

"I'm glad you see it this way. For a moment, I was worried," Jo said in relieved tones.

"Of course you'll be going with our distinguished guest speaker who can overhear every last word of our private conversation. You two are such an item these days."

"We both have a joint interest in going George," Jo said a little abruptly. George raised her delicate eyebrows. She hoped that it didn't mean what she thought these words meant.


	23. Chapter 23

**Scene Twenty-Three**

The sequence of roads leading to St. Mary's Hospital were now becoming a well-worn path as an area of town once peripheral to Nikki and Helen's existence was now a major centre of their lives. This time around, the series of tests were going to be more far reaching as Helen's pregnancy was more advanced. Helen was quite happy for Nikki to take the wheel and pick her up from home as she discounted the theory of having plenty to do to occupy her mind and preferred to delegate this.

The receptionist welcomed the two women as Helen checked in, both displaying a superficial cheeriness that disguised their nervousness. Nikki did wonder if they were somehow pushing their luck as her life's history had been one of sudden cataclysmic reverses in fortune and struggling to regain this ground. It was only for the last months that her life had finally stabilised as their cosy domestic scene provided some peace and tranquillity. However, their spirits were buoyed up as always by the version of officialdom that treeted them nicely and actually wanted to help them and not treat them as nuisances and distractions. It felt good to both of them.

While they were sitting on the hard plastic chairs waiting their turn, a sister marked out by her dark blue uniform and a nurse passed them by, chattering and laughing amongst felt familiar.

"If it was anyone other than you, Karen, I'd say you were jealous," the self assured blond-haired sister said in joking tones.

"All right, Chrissie Williams, I really think that you have a bad taste in men. Trust me. That's why I gave up and started batting for the other team," the other blonde retorted.

"Hiya, Karen," Helen called out in carrying tones with a broad grin on her face. Karen Betts, or so it was her, grinned and waved back while still walking rapidly, mouthing 'can't stop now,' making a mental note to tell the very heterosexual Chrissie Williams that, no, her friend isn't the normal typical mother with a best friend for moral support. In turn, Nikki and Helen smiled appreciatively at the openness with which Karen was living her life before the double swing doors swallowed them up and, in turn, Helen disappeared into the depths of the medical wing.

It was then that Nikki was aware of a dejected looking pale-faced young girl who looked as if she'd scarcely left school. Somehow, she claimed her attention. The swell of her stomach wasn't something she felt proud of as the slope of her shoulders announced her misfortune rather than a happy event..

"Your friend is very lucky to have someone like you to look after her. I couldn't help overhearing the way you're talking. My mum is furious at me being caught out. She said she doesn't want things like this second time around just when she's getting her freedom."

Instantly, Nikki was all sympathy for this young girl and she tried to comfort her and persuade her that there was a world outside who would treat her kindly if she looked for it. It passed the time while Helen was facing the first of a battery of tests.

As it turned out, the interaction with their friend put Helen in a pleasant frame of mind to face not only the blood and urine tests with perfect equanimity as she'd had these tests before but more searching tests this time around. This time, Helen faced the ultrasound scan in a more relaxed frame of mind as she was more prepared for it and, as time had gone on, the reality of her being a prospective mother was more tangible. This was because at her 20 weeks stage of pregnancy, it was designed to check to look for physical abnormalities of the unborn baby as a tangible being and this threw up additional concerns. It couldn't possibly happen to her, she prayed, as she put herself in the hands of the medical experts.

"This is only a routine checkup," it was explained to Helen in a deliberately matter of fact casual fashion."It's best to check this out at this stage in the has to go through it."

Helen relaxed a little at these reassuring words and bathed warmly in these kind hearted professionals would help bring in their child into the world. She knew that her physical shape and what was happening in her body was telling her as each day passed of approaching motherhood. They had come so far, Nikki and herself, that it almost seemed miraculous as to how they had got to their present point in life.

Back in the tightly enclosed world of Larkhall Prison, Bodybag's world wasn't getting any better. It was five months ago that Yvonne Atkins had been released from Larkhall but any positive thoughts that she'd seen the back of her chief trouble-maker and her scheming ways had been outweighed by the combination of Kris Yates and the two Julies coming to the fore. She didn't know which of them was giving her more or the Julies and there were many more of them who followed their lead.

At one time, Bodybag grumbled about the stroppy, moody lesbian who acted like a spoiled brat, snapping everyone's head off except Miss Geeson with whom she was suspiciously close. It meant that Yates made her fair share of enemies as she mouthed off at all and sundry and that suited Bodybag down to the ground. So long as prisoners fought among themselves, that was really all right by her so long as it didn't lead to anything serious. The maddening thing was that Yates was getting on better with the other prisoners and saving up all her venom for Bodybag. Likewise, Bodybag always saw the Julies as being as daft as a brush, getting up to all sorts of pranks but now they had the habit of looking through her with an expression of veiled wished that she could invent a rule by which she could send them down the block for just looking in a suspicious manner. What made it worse was that Miss Myers was definitely not a friend of hers and, while everything ran smoothly, Grayling was bound to back the winning side.

It wasn't fair, she whined to herself as, just for once, her moaning connected to a real irreversible downwards change in her fortunes. She almost felt as if she was locked up, along with the cons as she shuffled in through the gates and picked up her keys one more back was playing her up again but she'd pulled more than her fair share of 'sickies' and Myers was looking suspiciously at all her flowery trouble was that even they didn't work any more like they used to. Her family life with her Bobby was one of resigned coexistence punctuated with periodic fallings out with her two daughters, Gail and Constance, and doting on the apple of her eye, little Bobby Darin.

"You look like you've been dug up from the grave, Sylvia," called out Gina in derisive tones as Bodybag trudged gloomily onto the wing. "Me and my fella have had a hot weekend and I mean hot."

All the women laughed out loud partly with sympathy at this very human prison officer and partly against Bodybag. Kris joined in readily enough as her very conjectural relationship with Selena had been neatly solved with the help of a very convenient blind eye being turned. It did resolve the built up tension very nicely and it put a nice smile onto Selena's face when they'd finished.

"You should be setting an example to the prisoners, Rossi," Bodybag retorted, glaring furiously at this loose moraled woman. "It's disgusting, the way you talk in public"

"Just be a bit more cheerful for everyone's sake, Sylvia. Not much to ask for,"Gina retorted, grinning widely. She knew she was chancing her arm in mildly cheeking the older woman but she'd had a basinful of her endless grumbling.

On Saturday, Bodybag took herself off shopping in London and, when she'd walked her feet off, she dropped into a coffee bar and sat at her table, her large cup of coffee gradually cooling as she stared into the distance.

If only life was like it used to be, she thought to herself. She remembered walking onto the wing at a sprightly pace and into the PO room. She could almost see her past before her eyes. She enjoyed accepting a morning cup of tea from some young con who knew where her bread was buttered in being allowed her red band. Suddenly a past array of prison officers came into view, all with the same training and upbringing that didn't rely on paperwork and buzz-words. All it took was being taken under the wing of a more experienced prison officer to show you the ropes, the informal do's and don'ts. In those days prisoner's rights were unheard of. If they said, yes miss, no miss, three bags full miss, then they got special privileges as opposed to the mouthy rabble. How easy it was for her to have a word in the right ear and some troublemaker got ghosted out. They didn't have to spend valuable time in overseeing education classes and, if there were prison visitors, they were kept down to a minimum. There wasn't the paperwork in those days as all the PO's knew the cons and kept all the information where it was safe, in memory wasn't any politically correct language you were supposed to talk years ago. A con is a con is a con and that's all you needed to know.

She thought particularly of Jim Fenner who'd been her mentor when she first joined the prison service and they'd both risen in the ranks, her to Senior Officer and him to Principal. The times they used to have in fixing this, that or the other and they used to cover each other's shift if either of them needed to slide off on personal business. No one asked awkward questions and above all, everyone stuck together against the common enemy.

Her thoughts shifted to a darker mood as sights and sounds of all the awkward prisoners who had got out went through her mind. Before Atkins got out there was Hunt with her stuck up, oh so Christian ways and before all them, there was Wade. She remembered as if it were yesterday the way she'd cheeked her with her typical insolence " I'll miss Bodybag...taking the piss out of her anyway." She remembered with rising fury more of that smart alec backchat when she bumped into her and as bold as brass chimed in with "Excuse me, we're both on the outside now. Free citizens. The rules have changed. So I don't mind you calling me Nikki if I get to call you Sylvia." That was about eighteen months ago and the cheeky upstart woman was dressed in a posh looking suit as if she'd never been banged up in strips more times than she'd cared to count. No doubt she was being a professional troublemaker on the outside. She was the source of all her troubles, Bodybag glowered into the distance.

"Hey Bodybag, fancy meeting you again. Strange how we can't stay away from each other," called out that hated voice in louder tones than she remembered. The woman was dazed and confused as her past was so real to her as she relived it like a treasured family photograph album, brought out for special occasions.

"Don't you recognise me. I'm Nikki Wade. You surely can't have forgotten me as easily as that, nor my partner Helen Stewart."  
The older woman's eyes opened wide with total shock and horror as first of all, that hated dark haired woman appeared out of her swimming senses. There she was, dressed to the nines in an expensive looking dark suit with a faint white pinstripe, that cheeky grin spread all over her face with her arm round a smaller woman whose bold features, wide smile and green eyes rivited Bodybag's horrified gaze. What nearly sent her into an apoplectic fit was the unmistakeable signs of a spreading waist that denoted, to her own experience, the signs of mid term pregnancy. How could that possibly be, something as unnatural as that?

"I'll expect you'll want to congratulate us on the baby we're expecting, Sylvia. Who knows, we might even invite you to the Christening?" Helen teased in mocking tones, a wicked glint in her eye and an expression of unashamed amusement spreading across her face as her head rested on Nikki's.

Bodybag was rendered speechless by the brazen way in which her two bitter enemies behaved. That wasn't the only deadly surprise that they would land on her.

"Oh, excuse me as I'd clean forgotten to introduce our friends. The gentleman with us is John Deed a High Court judge, his ex wife and good friend George Channing and her present partner Alice Swinburne. Karen Betts you know already."

"We meet again, Sylvia," Karen said sarcastically, her blue eyes flashing fire at the other woman's senses. "Life has moved on for all of us since Fenner got sent down for murdering an innocent man and trying to frame me for it."

"The man committed suicide. It's a tragedy. He must have been feeling desperate. I bet you're all laughing at the idea," shouted Bodybag. The whole cafe could virtually see steam coming out of her ears as she turned red in the face, reaching for the first words that came to hand.

"Even me?" questioned John in his smoothest tones. John had heard a lot about this woman during his acquaintance with his friends and, once aghain as with Fenner, they proved to be excellent judges of character.

"You don't know the man,"Bodybag said scornfully. "You've never met him."

"On the contrary, I was staying over at Nikki and Helens and he tried to break in and terrorise them. I sought to remonstrate with him and ended up using a right hook on him to restrain him from going berserk. I think I got a pretty good insight into his character so much so that I couldn't in all justice try him for murder of one Gerald Baker, a fellow judge did so instead."

"But I prosecuted him and I must admit that it was a pleasure and a duty," interjected George in her best aristocratic 's mouth remained agape as she was totally dumbstruck. There was so much that she couldn't get her head around, for a start, Nikki's distinguished circle of friends and for another this man who was friends with them all.

"As for me, my life has definitely changed for the better,"chimed in Karen. "And here's my partner who's done wonders for my life in so many ways."

In stepped Beth who was a little late for their meetup and Karen embraced this glamorous dark-haired woman who looked as if she had stepped off a catwalk, dressed to the nines. This was the finishing blow as she saw Karen warmly kiss her lover. At that point, Bodybag grabbed her belongings and scuttled out of the door. She wanted to put as much distance away from her worst nightmares all come together. She felt as if she were hyperventilating. A gale of laughter greeted her as she left.

Mr and Mrs Wade sat in their comfortable sitting room, a picture of the Battle of Trafalgar over the mantlepiece. Outside the garden, the Home Counties brand of conservatism ruled supreme in the array of white painted mock Tudor or neo Gothic spacious homes.

"So what do you think of our daughter's invitation to this Howard League of Penal Reform AGM? It hardly seems like something that a died in the wool conservative like yourself would go to?" Mrs Wade said with a lurking smile on her face, turning away from her opened envelope lay on the side table with the invitation letter, stamped addressed reply and a letter written in Nicola's excitable scrawl.

"Of course you know what my answer is. I suspect Nicola has worked hard at behind the scenes and she deserves our support. We've the same reason to go as when we went to the annual sports day,"he chuckled.

Nostalgic thought went back in time to when they drove over to their proud daughter's boarding school and joined the queue for lemonade and home made cakes and watched assorted teams of long jump, high jump, relay races, 100 yards and quarter mile. Taking their places in the homely but functional wooden benches, the girls wearing the same identical sports uniforms milled around until being ordered into line for the start of each race. They could pick out their own daughter, a little taller than most with shoulder length curly hair and her deep brown eyes that sparkled with pleasure and caught their gaze. She was especially proficient at high jump, the sort of race where she hurled herself high into the air to just about clear the bar. That was their Nicola all over, to go for a challenge no matter how hard it seemed. By now, their memories had learnt to skip over the painful years of exile from each other, helped by the passing months of recent received a phone call at random, often with the request to spend the weekend over at their house in a free and easy relationship.

"I didn't think that you were greatly enamoured of conferences.'Loads of self important people gassing away, in love with the sounds of their own voices' is the way I remember you describing that sort of thing," pursued Mrs Wade.

"There's no lengths to which I wouldn't go to support our daughter. It isn't about guilt over the past but that's the role we were meant to fill."

"So you have no reservations about Nicola and Helen starting a family, dear?" Mrs Wade said in a conversational tone of voice.

"Between you and me, Nicola's more traditional than she makes out. I am quite sure she and Helen will do fine. as for our friends, we did right in casually telling our friends as if it's the most natural thing on earth. Our only problem is that this will put John's nose out of joint but that's hardly our problem."

"Then that's settled then," Mrs Wade said, turning her attention back to her crossword again


	24. Chapter 24

**Scene Twenty-Four **

Now that John was back in London on Thursday afternoon, November 7th 2002, he settled back in to his very comfortable routine back at the digs. Monty greeted him like a long lost brother, being the one man around who could deflect his domineering wife, Vera Everard. She was oblivious to the fact that her attempts to boss her husband's life and bask in his glory were not exactly appreciated, no one being up to the alternative of bluntly telling the woman that she was a confounded busybody. The trouble was that she had the ear of Sir Ian and ran a salacious gossip hotline direct to him. The moment John came through the door to his chambers, Coope also greeted him warmly, having been loaned out in his absence to serving one of the dull humourless tediously virtuous judges. However turbulent the judge's life was, including the strain on her nerves from periodic threats from the establishment, life with the judge was never dull.

The one contentious problem for John was that returning to London meant having to face up to his contentious relationship with Jo miles from London and the pleasant cultured university campus had made this fractious relationship diminish to the status of a troubled dream. When he was nicely settled at his desk, Coope dealt him the first case from off the top of the pile ready for hearing on Friday morning so now he was back in the cut and thrust of court readily confessed to Coope to be glad to be back with the adrenaline rush the minute the trial was started as opposed to the calm tranquillity of standing up on a podium theorising to impressionable minds although he had enjoyed his stay in Warwick.

The only trouble with the case was that Jo was listed as prosecution barrister and John took in a sharp intake of breath on Friday morning when he first laid sight of Jo Mills in her familiar position on the extreme right hand side of the long bench that faced him. Just what edition of her would he encounter? Life couldn't be taken for granted so much now that they'd broken down that long standing barrier that kept them apart as lovers but which kept them together as friends. It occurred to him that the closer they got, the more problematic their situation became. Fortunately, John's decision to play the case relatively safely and her unconquerable position meant that the trial played itself out smoothly to its inevitable conclusion aside from a bit of verbal sparking with Jo. The trouble was that, as soon as Friday was over, Jo rushed off in a hurry to be eager to research for a particularly complicated case for the Monday. John tried his best to say how understanding he was of Jo's predicament and hoped that his feelings of disappointment weren't too obvious.

On a Saturday morning, he suddenly decided to take Mimi on a long walk, especially as the sun was shining on a cold, windless winter day. With highly attuned senses, Mimi pricked up her ears and her tail waved vigorously from side to side to see if John would reach for the leash on the hook by the front stared into his eyes, hoping to bend his will to her wishes and made sure in looking particularly cute and wistful.

"Come on, Mimi, we're going for a walk on Primrose Hill."

The mental vision of the panoramic view of London was an irresistable one. He took his mobile phone automatically with him but some instinct prompted him to have it switched off. As John mentioned the magic word 'walk,' Mimi's ears appeared to stand up by themselves for a few minutes. Her mental vision was of an irresistable source of exploring foreigh territory, wide open spaces, fascinating smells and the opportunity to show off to other humans how cute she was and, hopefully scrounging biscuits and other delicacies off them. In particular, their final return home could be sneakily postponed with a bit of adroit handling of her master.

Soon, John shot away in his car, headed for their mutual destination, Mimi panting with no time at all, John strolled into the park and instantly, he felt free, released from all cares.

A group of neighbourhood mothers who frequented the park were very observant as to all the comings and goings of people as far as 'regulars' could be identified. One person who was very noticeable was the blind woman who came every Saturday to the park with her dog. Of course, they felt so sorry for the woman as it must be very hard for her to manage, especially with the large lively Labrador dog. They talked things over and agreed that it must be a job and a half for her to get out of where she lived and that this must be the one occasion that she got some fresh air. Obviously, she couldn't do the dusting and tidying away after herself and someone had to be around to cook her meals every day for assumed she wasn't married and therefore she must be living at home with her parents whom, they assumed must have driven her there. They must be particularly saintly in dealing with their daughter's misfortune themselves as much as this woman was for enduring blindness. They couldn't for the life of themselves being able to manage to remember where things were let along set about was unimaginable for any of them to set foot in a large wide open park with a dog without getting lost.

The women all prided themselves in being able to pigeonhole whatever stranger came their way and knew so much more than their husbands who were out at work all day while they each held down a part time job besides looking after the , they agreed amongst themselves, were hopeless in doing the slightest things round the house and were careless with keys so that they looked after were the ones who could sort things out and so they did, very noisily.

Meanwhile, the blind woman could be seen walking along the gravel path in a stately fashion, up the steep hill and working her way towards the top of Primrose Hill. In the middle of the park, she was noticed unclipping the lead that was attached to that complicated harness that the Labrador dog wore. The women looked at each other in disbelief. Surely, she couldn't be mad enough to let the dog run all over the park she wouldn't have a hope in hell of getting the dog back.

As they collected up their brood of children from the play area, they clucked to themselves that the woman wasn't their responsibilitty. If they had the ill luck in being around when she was calling out for help, they wouldn't be stuck with leading her by the hand and take her back from where she came from much less finding the dog which looked healthy enough to run a mile in no time at all. As they scolded their children to walk straight and not dawdle around, they were already working out what they had to do in the busy schedule in what they called life.

John came from over the brow of Primrose Hill and took in the breathtaking, panoramic view of London. It was a clear day and he could see the Post Office tower that marked the junction of Tottenham Court Road and Charing Cross Road. In mentally working out the particular perspective, he could gauge where the Old Bailey would be whose famous scales of justice were just about visible. This viewpoint and the splendour of the park put his life in perspective, particularly on the human anthills where countless numbers beavered away with no thoughts of any rhyme or reason in their lives. Down below him he could see a clutch of mothers by the play area and they reminded him of happy times when he did the same for Charlie when she was the meantime, Mimi gambolled playfully thirty yards away, craftily working out whether or not she could edge a bit further away without her master noticing. A number of times, animal cunning prevailed over the frailties of human shepherding.

Finally, John walked slowly down the hill, lost in thought as the cold wind whipped past his ears while his overcoat was buttoned up to his neck, round which was wrapped a woollen scarf. He enjoyed the abstract feel of exploring empty spaces and letting his thoughts flow free. Surprisingly, there were few of his fellow countrymen around today. This was a shame as he felt that this time of the year normally saw the downward plunge into dark mornings and evenings, cold grey skies, the rain pouring endlessly down ,only illuminated by the false tinsel glitter of commercialised Christmas. A day like this was worth celebrating, or so he thought as Mimi trotted on ahead of him.

Meanwhile, the big Labrador dog was back on the leash after his mistress's clear commanding tones had not let him mischievously play her up for more than a certain period of time. After all, he was a guide dog and, as such, felt obliged to demonstrate his sublime sense of superiority to the mere pets that accompanied their owners and didn't do a useful job of work. His importance in the great scheme of things had to be made really obvious in the way he carried himself. Posture and body language was everything. He had to be seen to be his mistress's guardian as he paraded around the park and eventually bringing them back to its entrance. Other dogs were in the humiliating position of being told what to do. The big Labrador's nature wasn't in the slightest way malicious. All he wanted was that his place in the pecking order of animals should be recognised and that he was Lord and Master of the universe because of his prowess. At the same time, he could mix business with pleasure, investigate a few interesting smells and generally have it both ways.

Suddenly, he sensed the presence of canine company and his pace quickened. His senses led him up the hill in a straight line and finally his owner's sharp ears picked up on that very melodious voice calling out to Mimi to behave herself. She very much liked the interesting timbre of the man's voice, possessing an irresistable weakness for posh. She was as willing and as inquisitive as the Labrador to see what she might find. One thing slightly puzzled her and that was that the guy didn't appear to recognise her, even though she occasionally called out to the Labrador.

"Hi, it's nice to see someone else enjoying the beauties of nature. I love the feel of fresh air this time of the year," Kristine called out.

This voice attracted John's attention straightaway, dragging him away from his blinked as this large woman of indeterminate age had suddenly appeared in front of him from out of nowhere. He decided that he definitely liked the sound of her voice, because it had no accent to speak of, and was clear, pleasant and commanding.

"I couldn't agree with you more. Do you come here often?" John said with studious politeness.

"That's the oldest line in the book. I've heard it said to me many a time," Kristine smirked with perfect self assurance, a challenging note in her voice.

This took John Deed aback. His first instinct had been to be very sympathetic to this blind woman who unaccountably had made her way on her own from the bottom of the hill and seemed perfectly self-assured. When she spoke to him, there wasn't the slightest hint of deference to him which, he secretly admitted, he was becoming a little bored with. This large woman wasn't his normal type, and therefore challenged his perspectives and this was intriguing. She was as sharp as a razor in seeing through him straight away. This was not a common experience for him.

"Well, in case you think I'm jumping the gun, perhaps we ought to introduce ourselves," John said in melodious tones "I'm John Deed."

"I've heard of you. You're a high court judge," Kristine said, a dawning note of recognition in her voice. "I've recently got to know a couple of friends of yours, Helen Stewart and Nikki Wade. They sing your praises very highly as someone who's dedicated to justice and who isn't afraid of the establishment. That appeals to me. Anyway, my name's Kristine Thorne- with a K."

"An individual touch," John murmured with approval. "How did you come to know Nikki and Helen ?" John continued politely. "I'm interested."

"Nikki came to ask me for help about academic research in prison reform. She came to the right place as I teach Education studies at the University of London since I started my MA when I was 23," Kristine answered in her chatty, conversational way. She knew straightaway that this guy was genuinely interested and not making idle conversation. "I'm also in the second year of my PhD is a combined doctorate of Education and Criminology. It's an extension to my Master's dissertation which was "Does giving prisoners an education decrease their chance of reoffending. If you know Nikki, you can see the connection."

"That gives me something in common with you, Kristine as I've spent the last two months at Warwick University lecturing in law to the judges of the future.I covered for a colleague who was laid up with an ankle injury. He was so carried away with one of his flights of oratory that he fell off the podium."

Kristine laughed at this man's droll story. The laugh of this woman was clear, unafraid and John liked that. It confirmed her initial judgment that this man had the gift of the gab with women. She could handle that one.

"Why on earth don't people use the eyesight they were given to look where they're going?" she answered, abstractly scolding the unobservant universe.

"I thought I was going to have to be sensitive about the fact that you can't see. I'm sorry, I'm not sure if that came out right."

"That's all right John," Kristine said in sympathetic tones. "I know you mean well. You shouldn't feel sorry for me. I was lucky in my upbringing. If this slope was covered with snow, I'd have a fantastic time skiing down this slope. I was taught to go diagonally down the slope so far, turn sharply and go down the other diagonal. Mind you, there had to be a sighted person with me for obvious reasons."

"That's absolutely amazing," John exclaimed, not being able to express his feelings about such unexpected independence.

"I can feel Mister Man straining at the leash to have a good run. I'm dying for a cigarette anyway," Kristine answered, acknowledging the praise, noting that this man caught the ball thrown at him and ran with it. She unclipped the harness and immediately Jules bounded away off the field. John followed suit , not being altogether sure that he could command his dog to return with quite the assurance that he wanted. In the meantime, Kristine reached inside her pocket for lighter and cigarette and lit up gratefully. Jules and Mimi went through the rituals that animals go through in getting to know each other, not that dissimilar than what humans indulge in. Kristine was amused to see Mimi assert herself with Jules, knowing very well what a big softie her large lumbering dog was.

"Nikki and Helen are both lovely women and they've done a lot for me- as real friends of mine. I've the highest respect for them. I've seen them in action in court and outside and they're both astonishingly strong minded."

"I know what you mean John. I visited them at their flat and they really are such an item. I admire them in having the guts to start a family together," Kristine answered, smiling wistfully at the memory of them.

"Nikki's persuaded me to go to the Howard League of Penal Reform annual general meeting. It's definitely in my field and of course, you'll be second 'll have to make sure you don't get upstaged."

"That isn't possible. It's very hard for anyone to upstage me, least of all a Government Minister. I mean what are they? What special qualifications has he got?" John observed dismissively.

"So we've got the chance to have a bit of fun. Conferences don't normally have a good reputation for that," observed Kristine, recalling self-indulgent speakers in love with the sound of their voices who insisted on dragging their excruciating speeches right up to the time limit.

"That reputation has nothing to do with reality, not where my experience is concerned," John said with a wicked smile as both of them sought to attract the attention of their errant animals.


	25. Chapter 25

**Scene Twenty-Five**

George gathered her file together after a successful day in court with a distinct smirk on her face. She had just soundly beaten one of her easier adverseries Neumann Mason-Alan, a black barrister who, like Lawrence James, affected an educated white middle class accent. In his eagerness to pursue his case, he laid himself open to criticism by the judge for asking leading questions, a habitual fault that he had never learnt to correct over the years. Worse still, he left a wide open opening in his case for George to deftly unstitch his case when it was her turn to cross-examine the witness. The result was that her client was found not guilty of the criminal charge, another case which further fine tuned her abilities as a defence advocate in criminal law. It struck her that this was a role that she would never have conceived of years ago and, after such a successful court case,a pleasant chat with her ex-husband, John Deed would go down well. She knew he was conducting a trial in a neighbouring courtroom and would cut through his case in short order.

She directed a mocking smile at the sniffy court usher who had been used to see Jo Mills slipping into John's chambers to discuss cases and whose puritanical disapproval concealed an ****inasatiable**** desire to keep up with the scurrilous gossip, maybe to even embellish it in her own mind. Now, she spotted the mischievous glow about George as she obviously hurried after John and she clucked disapprovingly under her breath.

In reality, some instinct had driven George to seek out John's company to talk and her smiles for the outside world were not felt in her own heart. When John received the message that George was due to call, he spotted the distracted expression on her face and her sense of weariness and he cut to the chase.

"You aren't quite as cheerful and glowing as I expected you to be. I expected that your equivolent of married life would suit you down to ground,"John observed dryly, subjecting George to a sharp penetrating glance. Damn the man, George thought half resentfully to herself, he sees everything in me.

"What makes you think that if I look less than sparkling, it must be my love life?" George fired back in acid tones. "Do you want my relationship with Alice to fail?"

"No more than you do. If you have any problems, perhaps I can help," John offered gently.

"What makes you think I would go to you? I have a lot of female friends with whom I can have a heart to heart conversation?" George fired back, feeling in an argumentative wasn't up to her ex-husband to start probing her psyche with no preliminary conversation.

"There you have me. I don't doubt for a minute what you say about your new circle of friends.I can only say that we've known each other a long time and the signs are obvious. It took me a while to place you in your present untouchable position, the same as Nikki and Helen. I could do without this arrangement being disturbed so that we can remain friends. I certainly have no hold over you or any rights to exercise. That went out the window a long time ago."

The precisely articulated way that John spoke didn't necessarily convince George as she knew that he was far more apt to conceal his true feelings than express them when things got tricky. The side reference to Nikki and Helen did resonate with her as she knew how deeply he respected them, perhaps far more than they knew. He didn't have to speak of them but he chose to do so, so therefore, what he said should be taken at face now, it took time for George to realise that John did care about her well-being in a way that didn't intersect with his own was an entirely new facet to the man she had known for so long.

"It's a long story and it's very complicated like it always is," George finally said in a stream of words that stopped abruptly. Instantly, George fumbled in her elegant handbag and fished out a cigarette packet and her lighter. She knew that John disapproved of her habit but she couldn't give a damn right then. She exhaled a cloud of smoke which John tolerated as the stress that George had repressed came pouring out as she paced round his smoking struck him as a harmless way of release in the grand scheme of things.

"You know that Alice works for Social Services, or rather she dedicates that part of her life to them that isn't with me or being her usual glamorous self at 'd have thought that she is well thought of at her place of work, being the compassionate and dedicated soul that she is,"George said in unusually, erratic phrasing that revealed her thinking processes to John as being uncharacteristically all over the place. "If Alice has a fault, she sometimes doesn't know where to draw the line, that there is only so much she can give in this world. You follow what I'm getting at, John?"

"I'm perhaps not the best judge of being prudent and careful," John said with a lurking smile at the corner of his lips. "You know that maintaining boundaries isn't exactly one of my virtues."

"Thank you John. That's exactly why I sought you out if you must know," George retorted as she brightened at once, playfully throwing a cushion in his general direction that sailed over his head. "Well, to get to the point, Alice took on a new client, a very schizophrenic old woman with doubtful ability to look after herself. She manoeuvred her into being pig in the middle of a domestic drama with her very neurotic daughter."

"That must be an occupational hazard like vexatious litigants are in our trade," John suggested as a commentary about a fellow professional. From when he had first met Alice, he had gained a high personal regard for her and had imagined her to be equally skilled, professionally speaking.

"It cuts deeper than that, John. The daughter also happened to be her equally screwed up scheming ex-partner who had previously sought to make a play for Alice and be rebuffed not so long ago."

John whistled softly between his lips as his imagination etched a vivid mental picture. George wasn't overstating her case.

"So what happened, George if you don't mind me asking," John asked quietly. George smiled gratefully back at John as he was obviously not in normal judicial interrogation mode in getting at the truth. This was his simple human concern.

"It ended up a screaming match which Alice couldn't deal with and the mother being taken down to accident and emergency with a knife wound in her arm, not Alice's doing I might add. You can easily guess that this wasn't a private matter but had repercussions with Alice's employer. The upshot of it was that Alice was blamed for not putting two and two together in the first place in her initial investigations and forseeing the danger of getting personally involved. She was told that she should have handed the case over. The fact that it went on her record was something she took to heart and she's been down in the dumps since then."

John sat back in his chair and looked at the expression on George's face. The story as told didn't make sense. He obviously grasped the fact that Alice had had a professional knock back at work but his own professional record was a strange mixture of professional brilliance, personal indiscretion and incurring the wrath of the establishment as their most relentless political opponent. Somehow, he had thrived on conflict and living dangerously. He had no doubt that Alice was as talented as George described her but this there was more to this than meets the eye.

"There's something here that I don't quite understand, George. Your story makes perfect sense as far as it goes. From how I see it, all Alice's troubles need is for time to be the great healer. One unfortunate slip up in an exemplary career is something that can be lived down. After all, I'm a prime example of this."

George took a long drag of the last of her cigarette, got up and searched distractedly for something to stub it out retrieved a spare ashtray from a side cupboard which he kept in emergencies while George purposefully and forcefully ground out the stub.

"This is where it gets complicated. You know that I love Alice to distraction and she loves me. I certainly haven't any grounds for complaint when we get home at night but

she's not been the same and it's not because she'll be called as a witness to the court case and not because of the trouble at her place of work. You would have thought that Alice would have seen through that fearful ex of hers, that disaster prone drama queen who's put her through more shit than I could possibly conceive of."

John's sympathies were roused by George's terse, bitter tone of voice and by the fact that she swore. This was very unusual for her even though she possessed a temper and command of the English Language that could hold down a first class row. It expressed the depths of her feelings like nothing else could.

"But why on earth should she especially sympathise with her? I can't understand this at all,"John replied in passionate tones of incomprehension.

"The trouble is that she's sorry for her as she thinks that her mother caused it all. Added to that, she's phoned Alice giving her the damsel in distress line that Alice is vulnerable to. Notghing like a straight sexual come on but can Alice stand by her for old time's sake with an impending court case in the offing?"

"Even though she stabbed her mother?" John asked incredulously, his eyebrows threatening to rise to scalp level..

"But who first drew the knife?" counter questioned George. "If some general scrimmage broke loose, who can say who was responsible for the stabbing? I have to play devil's advocate, you know and not let my hatred blind me to the truth."

"So why the devil is Alice being called as a witness? What on earth can she say except that the chances are that it's probably six of one and a half dozen of the other and that in all probability, the whole thing was an accident with no clear intention either way?"

George got up and kissed John affectionately on the forehead and beamed at him in gratitude for his understanding.

"Now you know why I've talked to you and nobody else," she sat at last as she sat down again on the settee.

"I don't quite understand you, George," John replied, his brow furrowed. It frustrated him that he could follow George's reasoning so far and then he would lose the plot.

"It's quite obvious darling if you think about it. You've known me for a long time when I've not been so nice as I am now. God I so hate that word but I can't think of a better one right now. You've known me to be selfish, grasping, mean, covetous for money and to be connected to the rich and powerful. All my friends don't see that side of me as I've changed so much. You more than anyone would be able to tell whether or not I am reverting to type, in projecting the dark side of myself onto this woman in hating her guts so much."

"And fearing her as well, damsel in distress routine can be pretty powerful stuff," added John.

"You're right," George confessed in a tone of voice that sounded almost beaten. "Because my pride won't let me lower myself to that level, I feel at a disadvantage, that Alice will slip out of my hands if I'm not careful. I have to restrain what I say about her if she comes up in a topic of conversation. That's why I'm so glad to talk to you right now. Also, all my friends,would deny this but I'd only be totally convinced by someone who's seen me at my worst even Nikki and Helen. Besides, you're a judge who's accustomed to weighing the evidence without becoming emotionally involved."

"So you think that your friends will automatically take your side and agree with you no matter what you say, possibly not for the right reason?" questioned John gently.

"You've got it at last," smiled George, glad also at his understanding which softened her voice as she continued. On another occasion, she might have extracted a bit of mean satisfaction in seeing John obviously struggle. "They're lovely people and their intentions are very noble but that's not enough in this situation..

"So why on earth is Alice's ex being charged for stabbing her mother? It all seems very questionable."

"Even after trying to remember how their twisted minds operate from my time with Haughton, I really don't know. There may not be any grand government conspiracy. The tabloids may smear Alice in her role as social worker for obvious reason and also her sexuality if that side of the story can be dragged in but otherwise, I think at best they're blundering around in the dark. The alternative is that there'll be a lot of sensationalist muck raking whose trail will eventually find its way back to me."

"But that can't happen,"protested John at the dark tone in George's voice. "You're being accused of living with a woman whose professional client manipulated her daughter and Alice's ex-partner into a destructive row which ended up in mindless mayhem."

"You're forgetting the twisted minds of the tabloid's press and the political enemies that I've incurred. I'm not talking about me as your political accomplice but me, myself, for the cases I've taken on," George replied slowly, articulating every syllable that she both thought and felt. John couldn't help but agree with the clear******

"So what's Alice's take on the situation?"

"This is where the problems start," George said with a twisted grimace on her face. "She's taken her ex-partner's side as opposed to her mother and sees her as the villain of the piece. The problem is that she's half right. I don't doubt that her mother is as bad as she makes out but she ought to have realised that mother and daughter are compulsively locked together into mutual hatreds that neither of them will let go 's the advantage of being detached from the situation."

"That sounds very logical to me, George."

"You're forgetting that Alice is a social worker," laughed George without the slightest trace of amusement in her voice. "She believes that she has the power to work through another person's problems, no matter how big they are. You shouldn't criticise it as, after all, is it much different from the causes you have fought to the point where you've risked professional suicide? That's the strength of belief that I'm up against."

John was aghast at the stark dilemma in George's harsh words. Never before had he faced the situation that the road to Hell could be paved with such good intentions. He'd never thought that was possible.


	26. Chapter 26

**Scene Twenty Six**

In John's pause for reflection, he could see and feel everything that George was trying to communicate to him. He had to hand it to life to create such a fiendishly pitched conundrum. He let his mind run free to try and pull a loose thread from out of the twists and tangles that knotted everything together. At last, he thought he'd found one and spoke to George who had subsided down into a gloomy silence.

"In all the time you've spoken of her, you've never given the woman a name," questioned John in his insatiably curious fashion..

"That's because I don't want to give the impression of having any human qualities that I can relate to. It would dignify her far too much. Her name's Becky Elliott if you must know. I don't suppose you have ever come across her with all the women you've ever slept with. Surely you realise that she doesn't bat for the right team?" George replied sarcastically.

"Tell me George, have you got a photograph of her?" The words shot out of John's mouth before he had a chance to measure his words.

George's mouth opened in shock at such an outrageous question. For once she was speechless. How on earth could John have dreamed up such a question?

"Are you totally mad, John? Why on earth would I even dream of carrying her photograph around me, like some talisman of evil?"

"That's exactly why I'm asking you George," John retorted, his blue eyes fixing George's and the power of his personality fully extended.

George's mouth closed like a steel trap and she knew that John could read her thoughts. Sulkily, she reached into her handbag, drew out a brown envelope and threw it in his direction. John took the envelope which he figured that George viewed as a contamination container and slipped the photograph out sideways and studied it intensely. His capacious memory started to work and as if by some miracle, he found what he wanted.

"I know her, George.I've seen her before. I've slept with her a few months back. It was at one of the discreet hotels I use. I know it," John exclaimed triumphantly, the light of discovery in his eyes.

The problem was that he hadn't stopped to think how George might react to this bombshell. George pressed her hands to her head as if she was suffering from the most excruciating headache ever before finally letting rip.

"John, you will have to do better than this.I wouldn't even begin to guess the number of willing and available women that you've charmed into bed. You're overlooking one very obvious problem. The woman is gay, spelt G A Y in capital letters. Watch my lips move."

"That's not how she appeared to me. If you must know the sordid details, I picked her up in the sort of singles bar I used to frequent. The rest of the story must ring true to form as details of my past transgressions got back to you over the years."

"Why on earth would a woman who had got used to sleeping with other women suddenly want to hang round some straight pickup joint waiting for you to chat her up? How on earth could she get inveigled into the cloistered social life that barristers and judges move in?"

"You speak for yourself George. You are the living refutation of your own theory. Besides, am I am the archetypal cloistered, conservative minded judge with my background?"countered John in spirited fashion. "Besides, you're at a disadvantage in this situation. I don't doubt that Alice is honest with you but, if this woman is as devious as you say she is, who can tell what sort of life she leads that Alice doesn't know about?"

George got up from her chair and started pacing around. Her conversation with John had complicated matters rather than simplified them. The worst of it was that she didn't doubt John's sincerity but couldn't square it with the situation as she understood it.

"This is all totally insane, John. I mean part of me wants to believe that she can't even be an honest lesbian. I mean, I'm used to the company of women who know where they stand sexually speaking and this is unknown territory to me. Besides, even if I can get my head round this, how on earth can I convince Alice of this? She'll just die at the thought of it and I won't be any better off," George exclaimed in loud theatrical tones.

"The problem is that you've never met the woman," John said slowly and steadily, fixing her with his eye contact. "You've been dependent on what Alice has told you of her. It sounds as if Alice has been confused about the situation and this is rubbing off on you. Unless you end up as defence or prosecution barrister, is there any reason on earth why you shouldn't track her down if you avoid talking about the trial?"

"That's going behind Alice's back," George said in sullen tones, looking and feeling uncomfortable at the prospect.

"Then say to her that if she really wants you to do the job as the caring consort in the run up to the trial, your own peace of mind is owed the need to talk to her so you know what she's dealing with. You've been at arms length, rightly or wrongly, for too long and you both need a change of strategy."

The room suddenly grew quiet with sensations of serenity as George's troubled expression cleared and her features became more relaxed. John had come up trumps and found her the answer. It made her feel good in being able to take the initiative and not be dragged along by circumstances and someone else's twisted will, operating by was infinitely grateful for this mature man in being able to sort out this jigzaw puzzle for her.

"I think you're right and I'll do as you suggest. Just one thing, do you really think that Becky is bisexual? Be honest with me."

"It's a distinct possibility. For the sake of argument, I shall call her Becky as I think that's what she called herself and she is one and the same woman. I can't say that sexually, she was anyway untypical. The only thing that I can add is that while she was the life and soul of the party with a real sparkle about her but, very unusually for me, when I woke up, she had already gone. I'm not saying that because she is bisexual, she is any way twisted, promiscuous, or sexually greedy..."

"Perish the thought, John. I can see that in getting to know us ladies from Chix, you are becoming even more offensively 'politically correct' in certain quarters than you are now. Joke, John. I'm only teasing you. That's a backhanded compliment if you must know," George added on seeing the downcast expression spread across John's face. She felt guilty as her friends deserved better at John's hands than this.

"Getting back to the point, how can you expect a woman who's psychologically at war with herself to be sexually balanced? It's just her being all over the place, nothing that much to do with her sexuality. Anyway, it all makes good reason to talk to her to find out what makes her tick and nothing more. Be patient and resist the temptation to scratch her eyes out. Sooner or later, she'll be having more trouble from life itself than anything you can land on her."

John's persuasive words finally did the trick and sorted out the hopeless tangle of thoughts and emotions that had been whirling round in George's head. It drove away that feeling of helplessness that was clean against her nature and had made her so ratty.

"John, you really are a friend in a million," exclaimed George enthusiastically. "Thank you so much for your support."

"It's no trouble. I'm only too glad that we can remain friends and can make up for misunderstandings and conflicts upon the way."

John's quiet thanks gave George reason to pause for thought. Now that the focus was off herself, she couldn't help noticing that there was something disconsolate in the tone of John's voice that led her to believe that there was more in it than met the eye. She felt ashamed to admit that she had never asked herself if John might be having any troubles of his own.

**"**I've heard it said that you and Jo are an item these days," George offered gently.

"That is somewhat premature and thereby hangs a lengthy story to that. I'm beginning to question just what an item actually is. The only definite evidence I see is in you and Alice, Nikki and Helen and all the other good female friends of mine,"John answered wearily.

It troubled George deeply to see that, while John was passionately concerned and asked the most searching questions in his efforts to help her, he subsided into a state of unhappy acquiescence on his own , John's own life was not all right and, while in the past he had brought down his own troubles onto his own head, she was positive that this wasn't the case this time. She was aware that John had gone through changes in his personality just as much as she had in hers. She questioned whether Jo's somewhat black and white view of the world would be alert to this but she needed to gently coax the truth out of him first.

"Perhaps you care to share your troubles with me as I have done with you. You know that you'll get a sympathetic ear- as an old friend," she asked gently.

John stood up, put his hands into his pockets, tried to assume a jaunty devil may care demeanour as he paced round the room and when he faced her, he had a peculiarly inscrutable expression on his face before dropping down into his armchair.

"As you say, it can get complicated, the best word I know for placing distance between the experience and the words used to describe it..."

John stopped dead until the look of tender concern that was written all over George's face registered with him. Just enough of Nikki and Helen's crash course in expressing emotions tipped John into finally revealing all.

"I really don't know where Jo and I are headed. Whenever we used to sleep together, the same pattern kept repeating itself, the night was fine but next day, Jo's peculiar sense of guilt made her blame me for everything when it wasn't really..." John started to say, pacing every word as if it were one uncertain step after another. "This time after we got back together last June, it was different and the morning after was blissful, like nothing I've ever experienced before with her."

There was a curious look of innocence on John's face that touched George. She was aware that John skirted round the nature of their sexual relationship and she wasn't going to press him on the matter. All in good time if John wanted to talk or so she considered.

"You don't mind me talking about Jo that way?" John suddenly asked anxiously, suddenly realising who he was talking to.

"Just relax, John," George said with a warm reassuring smile on her face. "You can tell me as much or as little as you want to say. However Jo came between us in the past might as well have happened to different people the way we are placed right how did things go between you from then on."

"We both decided to take things suggested it that very first morning , saying that we'd been here before and things had gone wrong. She wanted us to be sure that everything will work out fine and that we'd communicate with each other in every way possible. It seemed an eminently sensible suggestion, the way she phrased it. She put her arms around me and it felt good. I felt that we'd come home at last."

"So how did the reality come to measure up to the promise?"

"At first it felt good. We took things slowly, slept together at weekends. Then I went to Warwick to cover for Newton who'd fallen off his podium in a flight of dazzling oratory,"and here John briefly smiled as he uttered his deadpan joke before resuming his story in a more serious vein. As he continued talking, his delivery gathered pace and impetus and his verbal self restraints was gradually cast off.

"I was very busy to start with so our weekends dropped off a bit but when I did get to talk to her this old schoolfriend called Mel dominated her conversation. She's recently moved to the village she lives in and Jo spends a lot of spare time with her. I get the feeling that I can't get a look in. Also, this matter of 'taking things slowly' has changed so it's in danger of grinding to a shuddering halt. When we do meet up, it's fine but I'm not getting out the relationship I thought I should get."

"You mean sexually," came George's blunt rejoinder. She knew John well enough to talk in such frank terms.

"Yeah, that's about it," came the plain and simple reply. George didn't answer as she could see that a thought was nagging away at the back of John's mind till at last he gave voice to it.

"You don't think as someone who is attracted to women that there's anything between Jo and Mel?" John asked in a furtive tone of voice that she'd never known him use before.

"John darling," George retorted, a glorious smile spreading across her face. "I'm not the best person to ask. I'm strictly a one woman woman. It does not give me any insight into the sexual inclinations of any woman I come across. Yes, I can see that my female friends are pretty gorgeous but I prefer to admire from afar. Jo has always come across as straight-laced sexually speaking no matter how radical her politics so I really can't get my head around the fact that she would be other than the Jo Mills that I've always known. Don't quote me or ask me to sign a document in blood but it's quite possible that she's simply catching up with lost time and, given time, she'll find more time for you."

"I suppose you're right," John agreed glumly. "I can't see any other course of action to pursue. I'm just glad that you're around so that I can unburden my concerns. Regrettably, there really isn't anyone else I can talk to."

"Tell me John if you don't mind me asking. Have you been unfaithful to Jo?" George suddenly asked out of the blue.

"Up to date, no but you'd better believe I've been tempted, especially at Warwick University. A man cannot live like a monk forever. I don't suppose that..."

"The chances of me talking to Jo on such an intimate topic, knowing Jo, isn't good but if the chance offers itself, I'll take it and damn the consequences. I can live with Jo getting furious with me," George said warmly. "Now I simply cannot keep you from your work anymore nor myself either. I must go but I'll be thinking of you."

George's parting kiss on John's cheek lingered on his skin as did her kindness towards him. She was a good friend, something he had always valued in life. Sighing, he turned to the court papers in his in tray. He had told the absolute truth to her as well as he was sure that he'd only flirted harmlessly with that remarkable woman he'd met in the park, as one dog owner to another.

As George passed the selfsame usher again after a suspiciously long period of time in John's chambers, she couldn't help smirking at the woman. All sorts of lurid images must be going through her mind and, there they had been, trying to offer comfort to each other like old friends should do so. All the same, she didn't like the feel of the situation between him and Jo which gave her all the more impetus to set her own house in order, or rather hers and Alice's.


	27. Chapter 27

**Scene Twenty-Seven**

A/N Notes "Slip sliding away" Simon and Garfunkel

Jo Mills flung open the front door of her office on a wet and windy Monday morning once again , a scarf wrapped carelessly round her neck, one end trailing behind her and her fair hair tousled by the squalls of wind outside. The demands of her job once again had her in its sway as she sat down behind her desk, overlooked by the silver framed pghotograph of her two sons. They were a symbol of a part of her world that had tied her down to a sense of being needed, of having a purpose. now both of them were at university and it gave her a freedom that the world was her oyster. Outside the demands of her job, she could go where she wanted, do anything she pleased. It ought to have been a liberating experience after years of bringing up her children, of tending to her dying husband and of being a single mother carving out her career as a campaigning barrister. Now that she had made her reputation, not least in a series of trials centred on Larkhall Prison, she ought to feel happy and content with her lot. For reasons she couldn't understand, this morning wasn't working out this way.

She feverishly picked up the file on her desk. Oh how much she wanted to be absorbed in a crusade that she could immerse herself in. She remembered the sense of positivity she felt in taking on the Nikki Wade reappeal which drove her along with single-minded dedication. On her return from working in a her fabled Northern Town, she had gladly cooperated with George in springing Helen Stewart from the jaws of the Official Secrets Act. She remembered burning with righteous indignation when George first explained how the Establishment were trying to ensnare Helen over her partner's scathing denunciation of Larkhall Prison.. As she took on the case and George became involved, she felt centred by the hard work she poured into the case and that energy drive kept her sustained right through the trial. It was the way she worked best and gave her the feeling that she was living up to her self-imposed standards, that once again, she jumped up and over that high bar. It was only after she sat back in the comfort of her armchair back home, feeling drained and exhausted that things got a bit tricky.

"Damn it all," Jo suddenly exploded, hurling her biro at the desk and starting to pace around impatiently. Her secretary was engrossed with the morning post and other miscellaneous activity and she kept her head down. She knew that, while Jo Mills could be pleasant and considerate, she had her moods and therefore, how to keep a low profile. She suspected that this latest explosion was because the case that she'd put together was too run of the mill, not the sort of thing she could get her teeth into. She'd also known that there were two people who could rouse Jo's ire, one being John Deed and the other was George Channing, her rival for the judge's affections. She'd noticed that these long- standing relationships had changed from the affectionate way she talked to George on the phone and the way that her admiration for the judge wasn't soured by personal antagonisms.

Jo paced silently around the office, tension emanating off her in more so, her secretary did her best to bury herself out of sight so that she wouldn't be the convenient target for whatever frustrations were bothering her. Finally, Jo paced right past her and abruptly demanded a cup of tea. Anything to oblige, the secratary thought to herself if it would calm her down. She was curious to note that Jo Mills hadn't asked for a cup of coffee as was her habit to help plough her way through the new case that had come her way but concluded that it wasn't her business to wonder why.

Jo Mills finally leaned back in her chair and searched for the calming qualities that she needed some inner calm inside her. She didn't know why she felt so fraught

John Deed wasn't any more self-assured when he started work at the court. He'd felt so strongly that he had made a determined effort to commit himself to Jo but he wasn't feeling any closer to Jo. He'd really absorbed everything that Nikki and Helen had gently and persuasively urged on him which had pointed him in the direction of treating a partner with loving consideration. He had picked up on the nuances of the interaction between the two women in their cosy domesticity and all this had gently rearranged the jigsaw puzzle in his mind of how to relate to the woman who he'd been in love with in his muddled fashion. He had hoped that, this time around, he could get it right. He really wanted to pick up the broken threads of their past existences and to bind them lovingly together with a degree of patience that he never knew that he possessed.

The trouble was that all his virtue had left him in a state of sexual frustration, something that at one time, he would have not put up with for an instant and getting close to Jo who remained bafflingly enigmatic. Just at the point when he sensed moments when barriers were starting to dissolve between the two of them, something would happen which placed them no closer to Jo than ever whole situation got to him. He had figured out that in his private life, he could no more command his relationships than his personality was worth and had to be more considerate of others. In the nicest possible way, Nikki and Helen had told him straightforwardly where he was going wrong in his life. He looked back at the series of friendly encounters at their flat and knew now that he had been really struggling in his private relationships and these two perceptive women had known that from the word go. They had very kindly sought to steer him in the right direction and he thought that he had benefitted

Everything had gone so well for him, John mused as he gazed sightlessly out of the window. The first time that he and Jo had dated, he hadn't made the attempt to charm her into bed as he might have done once. He had been thoughtful and considerate to Jo and when they had finally slep together, he had been overjoyed to find that Jo was as loving to him when they chatted the morning after as in the heat of physical passion in the dark of the night. Most of all, he remembered with tears in his eyes how tenderly she talked to him to get him away from the nightmare he'd witnessed of his former unfeeling self. What got to him most was that Jo simply didn't understand his unprecedented and sustained efforts to live a virtuous life and he wasn't getting the recognition that he deserved. He didn't want to be egotistical about the matter but a few gentle words from Jo would have gone a long way.

What attracted and worried him was that he couldn't get Kristine out of his mind. He'd become fascinated by the way she refused to defer to him in the slightest way and challenged his thinking. He clung to this last point as a lifeline because he had suspected that he was backsliding into his old promiscuous ways and was picking up the first piece of skirt that came his way. He was able to counter that suspicion, or so he thought, by reasoning to his silent accuser that Kristine was hardly the blond glamorous woman who he normally gravitated curiosity was aroused precisely because she was so unalike his normal bed partners. As he thought about it, she challenged his precisely worked out set of definitions in a similar way as Nikki and Helen did. The curious thing was that his two female friends were obviously attractive to the eye while he was positive that his regard for them was purely brotherly. Indeed, he gained a great deal of satisfaction from his platonic relationship with them. For someone with such a rootless personality, it provided a secure anchor in his life, perhaps even more than his astute friends realised. But he did want to know more about Kristine for reasons he couldn't analyse for the life of him.

He sighed as he looked at the crumpled piece of writing paper he'd picked up in his travels, both round his chambers and inside the furthermost reaches of his psyche. It meant nothing to him as he shrugged his shoulders and tossed it into the wastebin while Coope glanced at him from the discreet corner of the chambers.

When she came up to London and worked in the cloistered worlds of courts, she came up against John and his essential goodness. The fact that she could hardly deny to herself that he had changed for the better made things worse, not better. It was obvious that John had softened up in the right sort of way and become more sensitive and aware, thanks to his interesting lesbian fan base who had gently steered him in the right direction. It was possible that he would cease his womanising ways. A big bone of contention between them was the way that male pride would never let him admit that he had done wrong and he would deploy his formidable intellectual resources to defend his position. The problem was that, now that John had changed his ways, what was there left that kept them apart? The longer that John was once again based in the same part of the world as Jo Mills was, the more she started getting into a complete tizz. In her life away from the hustle and bustle of London, Mel's presence was invading more and more of her consciousness.

Blind feelings of panic pulsed through her system. She found it hard to discipline herself to read through the next set of trial papers. It all settled down to one thing not to let herself permit John get too close to her. She found such a thought unbelievably frightening.

As John disconsolately drove himself back to the digs, he clicked on the car radio that he used to accompany his thoughts. It was always a surprise to him as to what came up. The open topped car was unconventional, stylish and therefore pure John. The musical introduction was promising as it was a lightly paced piece of blues boogie music that soothed his troubled thoughts.

"Slip sliding away, slip sliding away  
You know the nearer your destination, the more you slip sliding away

The sweetly harmonised two man harmony caught his ear but the sugar coated harmonied made him instantly sit up and take notice. They created his predicament perfectly as the two line sentiment anchored him to the reality in his life. He couldn't work out if he dreaded or welcvomed the revelation that would come over the airwaves from a randomly selected music radio channel. Sure enough, it delivered everything that it promised.

"Whoah and I know a man, he came from my hometown  
He wore his passion for his woman like a thorny crown  
He said Dolores, I live in fear  
My love for you's so overpowering, I'm afraid that I will disappear

I know a woman, who became a wife  
These are the very words she uses to describe her life  
She said a good day ain't got no rain  
She said a bad day is when I lie in the bed  
And I think of things that might have been

And I know a father who had a son  
He longed to tell him all the reasons for the things he'd done  
He came a long way just to explain  
He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping  
Then he turned around and he headed home again

Whoah God only knows, God makes his plan  
The information's unavailable to the mortal man  
We're workin' our jobs, collect our pay  
Believe we're gliding down the highway, when in fact we're slip sliding away."

John laughed out loud at these sentiments but the sound wasn't pretty. He knew very well that song very cruelly pinpointed those moments of indecision when every person was called on to step up to the mark and to say what needed saying. He knew that he was either guilty of any of these very same failures or portrayed the emptiness in Jo's own life that she could have filled if she'd only let herself.

Angrily, he reached for a Black Sabbath CD, an untoward taste that he shared with his daughter Charlie. He could have picked out a classical CD but those venerable composers, though meaning very well, were not up to dealing with the peculiarly modern agony of his own life.

Somehow, he found his way back to the digs and realised that he hadn't prepared his speech to the Howard League of Penal Reform. He knew where his duty lay, to lock himself alone and type out the perfectly modulated speech to say what he felt dear and somehow get himself in shape to face another challenge and to dare another dare. It was one area of his life that had never let him knew he would be immaculate for the job in hand.


	28. Chapter 28

**Scene Twenty-Eight**

The Howard League of Penal Reform Annual General Meeting was scheduled to take place on November 19th 2002 at the Abbey Community Centre, 34 Great Smith Street, London, one of those anomalies in the area being relentlessly converted to hard steel and glass in the modern, aggressively modern dominating fashion. By contrast, the redbrick Victorian building was tall and angular, with a Gothic looking balcony overlooking the street. Underneath the arched facade detailed greystone ornamental archwork provided a homely touch about it. Somehow, this building had withstood the ravages of time and greedy commercial forces.

"I never knew that you were interested in prison reform darling," Alice said to George as she emerged out of the shower, a large towel wrapped round her. "You are very tolerant of my hopeless causes, the waifs and strays that take up so much of my time."

"You have a natural talent in that direction," George answered with a tight-lipped smile. At all costs, she was determined not to let the conversation drift back to the great unmentionable topic, that of Becky Elliott. She had mulled over John's startling revelation about Becky's hitherto unsuspected bisexuality but she didn't feel ready yet to confront Alice with the news."You know I'll never really see matters the same way as you do but I know how good you are at your job."

"Even now, you get really embarrassed at the thought of being thought of as compassionate but I know differently," Alice's soft gentle voice answered, deftly turning the conversation around. She'd felt the chill emanating from George and sought to make peace.

"I'll do anything for a friend," George said softly, veering round to kiss her partner full on the lips."Nikki and Helen deserve all the help we can give by being there. I hate to say it, darling but we really must attend to getting ready."

Alice knew that George would be dressed to the nines as if she were going to the finest social occasion but her quick-witted mind would readily absorb anything and everything that floated past her consciousness. In the meantime, she browsed her wardrobe for her favourite selection of dark, tight-fitting trousers and lacy white blouse, being perfectly aware how much George loved seeing her dress that way.

Nikki woke up with the lark and, of course, Helen tolerantly, rolled over in bed very carefully as best that her pregnancy allowed her. Despite it all, she felt Nikki's obvious enthusiasm in the way that she flittered round their bedroom in a state of nervous excitement. This was her event and Helen was determined to show support whatever the uncertain state of her hormones might dictate. As they finally got themselves ready, Helen in a loose fitting maternity dress and Nikki in her smartest black suit, Helen took care to brush Nikki's hair from her side parting to her sideways fringe across her forehead. It gave her that pleasingly boyish look about the taller woman that Helen loved amongst other reasons.

"You think I'm ready now darling?" Nikki asked with a touch of nervousness in her voice.

"As ready as we'll ever be. Everything will be right on the night,"came the warm-hearted reply which put into shape all the taller woman's anxieties about the nameless and formless 'what ifs' that haunted her mind.

"Then we'll get going. God, it's indecently early," exclaimed Nikki to a grinning Helen as she complained about her own decision to be up extra specially linked arms and opened the way to the sunlit world outside their front door.

As the two women strolled towards their destination on an unusually bright and cold winter day, they spied the unmistakeably distinguished profile of John Deed, approaching from the opposite direction. He was well wrapped up in a long dark winter coat with a slim folder under his arm and set off against the low standing sunlight from behind. It was a happy omen.

"Hey, judge, I'm glad to see you're here early," exclaimed Nikki

"Just look around and see where we are," John said, his eyes glinting with amusement which also crinkled his face."Try crossing the road and looking in the direction I've come from."

The two women did as John suggested and they suddenly picked out the unmistakeable insignia of the Home Office on the regimented stone edifice and beyond that the aggressive concrete shape of a modern underground car 's mouth opened wide while Helen grinned widely. Memories of more frenetic days came back to them both when John led the judges into an outrageous day's strike against plans by the Home Secretary to restrict the powers of both remembered how resplendant John looked in his red robes of office and how angrily he laid into the cowardly Neil Haughton as the hardened glass of his car window attempted to insulate him against the waves of righteous criticism that washed against him. There was a real sense of comradeship in struggle and they flipped through the sequences of images in their minds like a pack of playing cards. Today would have felt more relaxed to Helen if she hadn't felt for her partner's lurking anxieties.

"We remember it well, John as if it were only yesterday," Helen said warmly to John who casually waited for their return. "So what's your game plan today, playing second fiddle to this government spokesman, whoever he is?"

"Just you wait and see,"John said mysteriously. The two women knew that this was partly his polite way of acknowledging that Nikki had her own tasks to do. At that moment, John spotted Kristine making her way elegantly along the pavement, accompanied by Jules who guided her along to her destination. Automatically, he waved in her general direction and, only after a few seconds had elapsed he realised that she wouldn't have noticed his friendly with his two friends, he grinned at his own faux pas before heading for the front door.

As soon as the two women came into the foyer, they spotted Paul Williams who cheerily called over to was feverishly breaking open the third of a set of cardboard boxes with a wicked looking kitchen knife.

"Thank God you're here early. We're two receptionists short. I'll phone up the office and try and scrounge some help but I'm stuck in the meantime. On top of that, Peter Jenkins has snaffled the job of escorting the guest speaker so he'll swan in at the last minute leaving us peasants to slave away at getting everything in knows why ministers can't find their own way here like any other human being."

"What do you want me to do?" Nikki asked quickly, sensing that the guy's good manners were barely concealing his intense agitation. "The judge came here at the same time as us."

"I've got to clear off soon to sort out the rest of the facilitators besides yourself, and check the PA is in 's the one fly in the ointment using this place from past experience so I'm not taking chances. My dim and distant days as a roadie for a local rock band has its uses," Paul answered, gabbling at top speed as he slid the opened cardboard box sideways along the table and grabbing for the next one."I really need help to set up the conference packs ready for you to hand out with the rest of our mob at registration time.I wouldn't normally ask you to double up on the job but I'm short-handed."

"Helen will give me a hand for the moment till we get more help,"Nikki said, exchanging glances with the smaller woman.

"Anything to help out a mate in trouble," Helen added, flashing a winning smile to calm the poor bastard down.

Paul directed a questioning look at Helen's obviously advancing stage of pregnancy and instantly cancelled out the thought. He knew that this very determined woman knew exactly what she was doing and would easily find a space for herself.

"Thanks a million..I've also got a special programme made up for one of our guests. You know who it's for," Paul answered, darting a significant look in their direction and making a grab for the shoulder bag he'd left leaning up against the wall.

He passed over his knife to Nikki and bolted out into the conference hall. Nikki grabbed the kitchen knife and physical exertion in breaking open the last of the cardboard boxes calmed Nikki down just nicely while Helen stacked up the conference packs in a way that she thought best.

Pretty soon, Karen rolled up for old times sake and, with a little grin, allowed herself to sign in as directed by Nikki who gave her what had become an acquired introductory spiel as to the programme and the general arrangements. Beth was next in line, complete with reporter's notebook and both made a bee-line for Helen to keep her with Alice, George stood elegantly and patiently behind a total stranger in the registration queue while John looked on with distinct interest. He knew of old that his ex-wife was the worst queuer he'd ever known. Both of them smiled as Nikki was about to start her accustomed patter and blushed prettily in recognising her old friends. Both women picked up the conference pack and selected a chair in the contrastingly starkly function main conference hall and started to read with interest.

"So where's Jo Mills?" George asked of John as she strolled into the cafeteria, seeking a cup of strong black coffee. She hoped that they would find a concoction that would suit her critical palate."I thought this event would be right up her street."

"I assume she'll be coming over. At least she's never said anything to indicate that she won't be coming," John answered non-committally.

"At least Sally and I have made it," called out a cool voice from behind John. He turned round and effusively greeted the two women, knowing that they hadn't got an obviously direct interest in the subject matter of the conference. Somehow, the growing collection of female beauty started to boost his spirits as he chatted away though they picked up on an undertone of sadness that the one available woman hadn't turned up. They all carried their cups of coffee out of the cafeteria to generally circulate as they would be seated for a long time.

At last, Peter Jenkins strolled through the front door as if he owned the place. He sensed the buzz of purposeful activity around him and eagerly hung on every word uttered by the distinguished speaker Andrew McCully, Director of Supporting Children and Young People. He was dressed in his smartest check suit, accompanying the Great Man and laughing at his knew that it was important to spot the rising political stars as, who knows, their patronage could prove to be very useful. In reality, the politician was the typical clean-cut nondescript personality who would be well suited to appearing before a television camera like all professional politicians did and any rough edges had been knocked off him.

In the meantime, Nikki grabbed a moment to pause after flogging her way through the endless line of people waiting to be inducted. She was dying for a cigarette but knew that lighting up was impossible. Helen's wicked sideways smile at her from the next table betrayed her awareness of her partner's frustrations as she gave her next customer her undivided was hoping she would be relieved to be ready for her facilitating duties which, to her, meant Nikki just being Nikki. Helen felt proud of doing a fair morning's work and she plunged back into her work with her normal drive and determination. What she didn't notice was Claire and Peter Walker as they quietly sneaked up on a very preoccupied Helen as they edged forward in their queue and Nikki's peripheral vision told her that she would exact her revenge on her mischievous partner.

Finally,Kristine and Jules made their way into the hall and her ultra sharp hearing oriented her to where to check in. All through her life, she had operated with this very powerful three dimensional map inside her head in order to orientate herself in a new surrounding along with the empathy that ran between her and Jules as to what she wanted. A mere pet was there to yap and be playful, Jules's body language told the whole world while he was a necessary extension of his mistress.

"Hi Kristine,"Helen called out to the other woman. "If you come over to me, I've got a special programme made up especially for you."

This announcement jolted the other woman's thinking but she went straight past the fact that, for some reason, Helen was helping out. Her insatiable curiosity was immediately sparked and she couldn't wait to see if it was what she thought it was. "Nikki's boss Paul Williams had a special Braille copy of the programme made up for knows you'd appreciate it."

Kristine couldn't possibly play it cool at her friend's special thoughtfulness. A glorious, whole souled smile spread across her always found such displays of thoughtfulness in this area of her life very touching.

"Thank you so much, all of you. It isn't every organisation that takes the trouble to think in these 's really kind of you all. I was seriously worrying how I'd get on as I phoned up your place and spoke to this useless, offensive man who hadn't two brain cells to rub it or not, he had the gall to question why I should be here."

"Yeah, I know him," Nikki said in a flat tone of voice while Helen laughed appreciatively at the way this woman stood up for herself. She was someone after their hearts ."His name is Peter Jenkins."

"You obviously despise him as much as I do but we won't go into that right now."

Kristine's softly spoken discreet reply was a statement, not a question. The two women resisted asking this astute woman how on earth she knew that. Even to them, Nikki had made her feelings obvious and by now, they realised that such a deduction was child's play to Kristine.

"I insist on signing my name if you show me where to sign," Kristine added, in tones of obvious pride in who she was in this world. With the Braille pack and her intellect, she would be easily the equal of anyone else in the conference hall.

"It's marvellous to see you, Kristine," John called out from behind the two women. "I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself."

It was at this point that Jo Mills came into the hall and spotted John's friendly attention pointing in the direction of some random woman, and not to her. It got her hackles up straightaway.

Finally, people filed into the main hall and an expectant buzz ran round the hall. At the front was a top table and Peter Jenkins positioned himself in the role of chair, Andrew McCully sitting by his side. Paul sat one side of Nikki, Helen on the other side, bracing himself for the flood of self-important verbiage that was to come, from Peter Jenkins for a start. Paul wasn't rank conscious in the slightest but he resented the way that that prat, Peter Jenkins had worked his way into this job in the absence of the Assistant Director when he had compered the press launch of Nikki's investigation into the workings of Larkhall Prison. He hadn't had the heart to forewarn his friend how dire Peter Jenkins would be but wagered his mental sanity against the judge livening up the proceedings and letting in the light of truth.


	29. Chapter 29

**Scene Twenty-Nine **

Peter Jenkins stood up and sought to make an impression on the audience as he stood up and briefly clasped the lapels of his jacket as he drew himself up to his full height. Immediately, a row of very alert eyes in the middle row of the conference hall picked up on his body language, besides the tall, dark-haired woman whose sardonic smile might have been misconstrued by the unobservant as approval..It was plain to see that the conference was here to serve his needs rather than the other way round. His speech did not detract from initial impressions .

"Ladies and gentlemen, this historic organisation meets once again to carry on the work of our forefathers in seeking to alleviate the lot of the unfortunates in society with our charitable work. We are not professional politicians with the power to click our fingers and, lo and behold, improvements will follow. Our role is to influence, to persuade those who have the power to effect change and, with that in mind, we seek to sustain and nurture our informal contacts with those who have that power so that we may go forward in a true and equal partnership. Both our organisation and professional politicians view each other with mutual respect, that each of us have our special roles to pursue and that more can be achieved this way than by conflict and confrontation, something that trendy radicals used to espouse though, thankfully, their ranks are dwindling as they begin to understand greater wisdoms or alternatively, they move on elsewhere from one failed confrontation after another. Let us not forget that some of us have more than one role in society. As for myself, I don't particularly want to blow my own trumpet but I thought I'd illustrate my point by mentioning that I'm also the Chairman of the Board of School Governors of my local school. this was where my two sons were educated and I like to think that I am continuing my commitment not just to selfishly advance my son's education and their subsequent career but for higher, unselfish reasons. Without further ado, I would like to introduce the main speaker for us, Andrew McCully, Director of Supporting Children and Young People. Let's give him a big round of applause."

Claire had long known her how lively minded her old friend Helen Stewart had always been and Nikki's mentally stimulating influence had only enhanced what was already there. While Claire maintained a tactful visual presence, she sensed that her two friends were not receiving this unbelievably turgid introduction very well, Nikki's tension radiating in waves from her.

"Hey, Nikki, how come you let this idiot run the show?" Claire whispered out of the side of her mouth in a joking fashion.

"I work with the guy. I didn't vote for him, smart-arse," hissed back Nikki under her breath with more fierce intensity than Claire had bargained for. Helen raised her sharply defined eyebrows and enlightenment dawned as she approached her partner's reasoning processes sideways. Nikki was feeling defensive, as if her life's work in her latest career was on trial from the sharp gaze of her friends who knew her so well. And of course, defensiveness and insecurity manifested themselves outwardly in edginess, in perceiving as a personal attack on what was meant as light-hearted disrespectful banter directed at a pompous fool for whom Nikki had absolutely no responsibility nor respect. Helen remembered. She'd been there, she thought, as her hand sought out Nikki's to give her a reassuring squeeze. She needn't feel this way, she was trying to tell her.

The smart-suited politician delivered his lines in a peculiarly emotionless fashion where these words might have meant something if he'd lived through these experiences or had empathised with them. The trouble was that the conference was stuck with a professional politician.

"...They don't want to be on the streets, kicking their heels, feeling bored and getting into trouble. They want to feel safe, and don't always. They think that they could achieve so much more, but don't know what advice and support is available. They want something better. And it's such consistent messages which have been behind an unparalleled response in recent years to begin improving facilities and opportunities for young people..."

Memories of that expression of baffled incomprehension and frustration on Denny's face haunted Nikki as did all the other women she'd met on her travels since she'd started this job. She'd got to the point where even her worst enemy, Shell Dockley was less the evil cow who victimised any inmate who didn't stand up to her but someone who had been twisted by the life that her parents had initiated her into, especially when Karen had told her in strict confidence how both parents had sexually abused her. Helen recalled Zandra's description of her traumatic relationship with Robin and the way that the emotionally needy working class girl thought she'd found something in common with that inadequate and selfish upper-class lad through heroin. Kristine recalled how she'd visited two prisons as part of her MA dissertation and had absorbed the way the prisoners talked freely about what prison education had meant to them. Meanwhile, Jules's tail whisked about in a bored listless fashion.

"Over the last few years we have worked with local authorities to reconfigure services for vulnerable young people so that, rather than pockets of expertise targeted at individual problems, we build teams around the young person with a lead professional identified assigned to them and their needs assessed through a common assessment framework. Still not there yet, but by the end of the year the majority of local authorities will be on track to deliver this. Our early experience of Family Intervention Projects, where intensive support is offered, if necessary with strings attached, to families in the greatest difficulty, shows the potential impact of focusing on the family experience. Ongoing evaluation shows instances of ASBOs, of domestic violence, family breakdown all reduced by at least a half and frequently considerably more."

Over the years, Nikki had got to know what had happened in Denny Blood's life. When she'd done her in depth investigation into Larkhall prison over a year ago, she had instantly connected with the young woman in ways that she never really had beforehand. Since then, she couldn't resist popping into the prison for a little bit of personal research to be warmly greeted by the new Wing Governor, Frances Myers whose no nonsense approach chimed with had opened up to her about her past so she'd had heard how Denny had been taken into care on the one occasion too many when her mother had been on an extended drunk, leaving her little daughter to fend for herself. The lead professional to do with Jessie Devlin, Denny's mother, had done what he'd thought was right in carrying out a family intervention strategy in placing Denny in local authority care. However, being sexually abused by the male social worker who had been placed in authority over her had hardly focussed on her 'family experience' but had only made matters worse. Denny had fallen in love with the female social worker in charge of her children's home which was the one positive experience in her blighted life only some organisational type had decided that, no doubt for rational reasons, that Denny's future would be best served by a move to another children's a blinding rage, Denny had set fire to the children's home. If the professional politician had heard the bald facts, he couldn't have got his head round the situation but the level of understanding of her group of friends could comprehend the whys and wherefores. And this man was giving them his professional expertise? Profound feelings of depression swept over Helen. Being local office manager of G E International, a firm specializing in computer products meant that she wasn't promoting anything she didn't believe in.This kind of managementspeak was more familiar to her from when she worked for the Home Office and she had always hated it. Helen's own warm passionate nature revolted against these coldly uttered buzzwords that said nothing about her life or anyone else's.

"...but we won't break the cycle of offending and re-offending if we don't plan for the longer term..." the man intoned to a silent audience..."The voices of all the young people – whether on my unseen video, or in all the consultation that we do continually – were seeking something better. I think we can give them that now."

"What on earth was that speech all about?" George whispered into Alice's ear who grinned. "After all, you're the expert in this area." Karen raised her eyebrows in incredulity as the endless prattle of words sped on past her and into the wastebin of history. She'd spent her life in the caring profession, first as a nurse, then as a prison officer and once again as a nurse. What experience had this guy that could possibly match hers? At the start of the speech, Beth's pen had hovered over her writing pad in anticipation as her presence at the conference combined business with pleasure. Her career as a journalist had attuned her to hearing the substance in a story and discarding the waffle. The problem she found was in translating the highflown words and acronyms into substance that could make an incisive newspaper article though it meant that her shorthand easily kept up with the constant verbal drone which finally fizzled out in silence.

"I'm sure that our distinguished speaker has given us all plenty of food for thought," Peter Jenkins said, grabbing the microphone as the speech was greeted by tepid applause. In his mind, the speech had gone down well and Paul Williams, cynically viewing the sorry spectacle realised very late in the proceedings that the man actually believed what he was saying. John smiled to himself as he caught Paul slowly shaking his head in disbelief."We'll take a fifteen minute coffee break, a chance to socialise to get to know each other a little better and make new contacts. When we come back, we'll break up into seminar groups so we can explore these ideas and see where they lead us."

The audience immediately got to their feet and immediately started filing out. The sounds of murmuring was indistinct and only when they got to the back of the hall was the hypnotic spell finally broken.

"All I'm going to say to you John Deed is that you'll have to be spectacularly good to make my time here worthwhile," George said under her breath to John as they all made their escape.

"I'll do my best as I always do George," John replied with such a look of innocence in his baby blue eyes whose colour George had so often felt seemed made for him. He had certainly deployed that look so many years ago when he had first seduced her and then went on to charm the numbers of available women in his sexual career. That didn't matter now, George thought, the expression on her face softening when she spied her beloved Alice from the corner of her eye.

When they got to the refreshment area, divisions appeared as to what constituted refreshments. Nikki wasn't averse to a cigarette but she desperately needed her caffeine level topping up as did Helen. By contrast, Karen malignantly eyed the 'no smoking' signs prominently displayed and gestured with a sideways nod of her head to George, being an equally inveterate smoker. Alice smiled tolerantly at her two friends who looked like two naughty schoolgirls and helpfully pointed out the back door of the building which, hopefully, opened onto the backyard. Finally, Kristine approached them from behind, accompanied by the jingling sound from Jules' harness.

"Thank God, the coffee break's come when it has. I'm dying to get outside. This place is no smoking, Kristine " George said in withering tones, sensing that the other woman was already reaching for a cigarette.

"In that case, I'll join you if you don't mind," Kristine replied politely to the two women. "I really hate this politically correct attitude that won't let me smoke when and where I want to. I also need to attend to Mister Man here."

George and Karen silently let her join the gang, recognising this woman as the red-hot blind academic who had made such a strong impression on Nikki and Helen. Instantly, they liked her style and George automatically gestured the way for the three of them to proceed. Kristine smiled at their welcoming attitude.

The sun was shining brightly outside and the piercing cold weather certainly blasted out all trace of fuzziness in their minds that was caused by concentrating on what was a load of politician type wind ruffled their hair and cut through their overcoats. They all hoped that the proceedings would liven themselves up a bit.

"What a feeble, pathetic man that politician is. Absolutely no backbone. He's the sort of man I totally despise," exclaimed Kristine as soon as she'd found her first cigarette , expertly lit it and exhaled a cloud of tobacco smoke. "God, I needed that."

Karen and George broke into delighted laughter at this remarkable woman's caustic wit. Instantly, she felt that she was one of their gang.

"Don't tell me you don't like men or is it it that type of man in general?" Karen enquired with an impish grin on her face. She didn't know just why she said these words to a perfect stranger. It was just that the words popped out, unawares to her.

"Oh no, I've slept with my share of men. Let me put it this way. If he was the only type of man existing on this planet, I'd definitely take up women full time," Kristine retorted at lightning speed, a wide grin on her face as her words reverberated through space and consciousness. She surprised herself in being emboldened to reveal more of herself than was her custom. Perhaps it was a combination of the desperate stream of platitudes they'd been subjected to that drove her to be as outrageous as possible or it was her sharp perception that these two women were in her league of inner directed women.

"I can't believe it," George exclaimed at last as she got her head around this revelation. "You're so greedy."

Kristine burst into peals of laughter at this gorgeously aristocratic voice paying her the most witty, delicious compliment.

"Aren't I just," she retorted with a wicked grin.

"This is completely new territory for us, Kristine, if you forgive us our ignorance," Karen answered, her husky tone of voice persuading Kristine to forgive this woman anything.

"Sighted people have a lot of common misconceptions about blind people, in being objects of pity when me and my friends I went to school with don't feel that way," the other woman continued in a level tone of voice. "They can't imagine us having sex like any other human would take a major scandal involving a high placed politician or celebrity to get that one over to the general population."

Both women nodded agreement at the intelligence of this remark out of automatic habit and the three of them started nattering away as if they'd known each other a , the conscientious Alice poked her head round the door, correctly figuring out that, left to themselves, these three women might abscond from the conference.

"This is where Paul and I have to desert you,"Nikki said apologetically to their friends as Alice led George, Karen Kristine and, not forgetting Jules, back to their group.."As you might guess, we have meetings to facilitate."

"That's a long word Nikki. It isn't your usual style," laughed Jo without thinking. She couldn't work out in her mind how everything this morning seemed to rub her up the wrong way, including this trivial matter.

"You find a better word to describe it, Jo and I'll go with it," flashed back Nikki. "Personally, I hate the word but I've got a topic to kickstart debate on and to see what practical ideas get thrown up. The last thing I need is everyone to keep their mouths shut as if I'm head prefect."

With that, Nikki stalked away from the group, leaving her friends open mouthed with shock.


	30. Chapter 30

**Scene Thirty**

Helen took fire straightaway at Jo's incredibly badly judged remark and was first off the mark. Even if Jo Mills was the woman to whom Karen and Nikki owed so much, she wasn't going to take such an insult to Nikki lying down.

"You were way out of order, Jo," interjected Helen, barely suppressed fury in her voice and her green eyes glinting flame. "Have you the remotest idea just how nervous Nikki is?"

"I don't know why you're reacting this way. It was only a joke. I wasn't being serious. In any case, don't you think that Nikki overreacted?" Jo responded, trying to laugh her way out of the situation with everything but her eyes. The false note in her voice grated on Kristine more than anyone and she took an instant dislike to the woman. However, it wasn't her argument so she patted Jules's back as he was starting to show a certain degree of restlessness.

"Apologise, Jo. You don't talk that way to a mutual friend," hissed John under his breath, for once turning red with embarrassment. He suspected that it was his presence that had sparked off Jo's faux pas but honour demanded that he make an intervention. Jo realised that George's angry glare announced that she was third in line to join in the argument and public sentiment was against her. It was this that inflamed her anger against him.

"Don't you tell me what to do, John Deed," she snapped which caused the sharp-eyed woman to detect undertones in the row that had suddenly broken out. Instinctively, they pulled back from what would otherwise have been a general free for all argument. In that pause, Paul jumped in and took command of the situation

"OK folks, will you cool it, everyone. I know exactly what's going on inside Nikki's head but I just want this event to go ahead same as Nikki does. I've just decided that you'll all be in my seminar group while Nikki takes a group of people she's never seen before. Believe me this will work out for the best."

The man's strong, forceful tone of voice cut through the jangled feelings as he neatly avoided taking sides on the politely deferred to the man's good sense, Jo coloured and shut up while the rest of the women appreciated the diplomatic skill of this guy and understood why Nikki spoke so warmly of the guy.

"OK, so you lead the way, Paul," Karen answered with a winning smile, while clasping Beth's hand. "When do we get this on the road or is there a chance for one more cigarette?"

"Afraid not. Teacher's rules, "Paul smiled back regretfully with a twinkle in his eye. "One minute and I'll lead you to the seminar room."

"For those new to this conference, I want to tell you straight off that we're all wasting time if we're thinking in terms of following party lines. I'm guessing that you wouldn't be here unless you basically cared about the world around us and you aren't under corporate sponsorship. I'm going to lob over a few pointers which you can follow, modify or throw out the window if you see fit and we'll see where we go," Paul said in his relaxed style, as he paced round the room in a leisurely was dressed in denim jeans, a slightly crumpled brown corduroy jacket and black roll-neck pullover and had the manner of a university lecturer.

_God, he really is like Nikki, _all of them thought, including John_. _It pleased them all that they weren't going to be told what to think and they trusted the guy straightaway. Kristine in particular absorbed all the nuances of his style and decided that she liked him. Paul felt the positive feelings but suspected that Nikki's friends were going to give him a good run for his money, noticing the slight smirk at the corner of the full lips of his old friend, Helen. He decided to dive in straightaway.

"Some might say that what is moral isn't necessarily legal and what is legal isn't necessarily moral_. _How does that grab you as a description of today's society?"

That short, sharp remark unleashed a floodgate of debate as Helen led the way in, fired up as bitter memories of the skullduggery she'd lived through at Larkhall Prison flooded back into her mind. When a pause took place in the conversation, Paul threw in another titbit.

"There's another perspective of a growing breakdown of traditional restraints, a more rootless and anonymous society so that people can't walk the streets without being afraid of being mugged."

There was a murmur of thoughtfulness as the audience grappled with the authoritarian implications of this remark while acknowledged that robberies and violence were part of modern life.

"That's OK as far as it goes but there's a problem," intervened George at last as she found her way to dismantle the trap which this point of view contained. "As you can tell from the tone of my voice, I come from an extremely well to do background. I went to a very exclusive boarding school and finally became a very well paid barrister. I'm also a lesbian and the question I pose is how on earth would I have fared if I discovered my true sexuality at boarding school rather than in recent years? I would have been an outcast, most probably expelled and treated as if I were a criminal."

"Traditional society needn't be all it's cracked up to be,"Peter Walker added in his own quiet way.

"It's never been illegal to be a lesbian," a conservatively dressed man said haughtily.

"There's another point of view,"John intervened, "and that is the growth of a 'can I get away with it culture' which isn't just amongst the poor and deprived in society but which is increasingly prevalent amongst the rich and the powerful. I'm the son of a Birmingham baker and went to Eton on a scholarship and then on to Oxford so I saw many of todays leaders of society in their formative years. I foolishly thought they would go on to play the rules. I've certainly found out differently."

"There's sometimes a difference between what people say and what they do. As a journalist, I get to see behind the scenes ,"offered Beth, her kindly influential support being greeted by John with a warm smile.

"And as a social worker, that much derided and undervalued profession, my job is going round with sticking plasters in patching up society's wounded," interjected Alice with a flash of self revelation of her own situation.

"And as a nurse, I see the physically injured which can come about from illnesses and accidents but the increasing number of those ending up in accident and emergency ward from a night on the tiles on Fridays and Saturdays. The relaxation of licencing laws to fuel the profits of the alcohol industry has a lot to answer for,"Karen followed on with considerable warmth, remembering last weekend the blood stained youth who was out of his head taking a swing at her, to be restrained by hospital security.

Kristine had followed the debate with great interest. This was the opportunity to put over her most keenly felt experiences but she didn't want to trample over anyone. Fortunately, this was made possible by the gap left open which she could neatly plug..

"I'm a lecturer at the University of London and my field of study is in education and criminology. I've listened with great interest to everything that's been said and I couldn't agree with you more. One real problem I find is that prison education continues to be the first area to suffer financially when there are government cutbacks when resources are reassigned at individual prisons. Central government departments should attempt to move forward in this age of prisoner rehabilitation so the same prisoners don't reoffend time and time again. In simple terms, if the prisoners are given something by which to occupy both their time and their brain, they are far more likely to use their custodial sentences productively rather than allowing the time and themselves to waste away. The trouble is that there's a persistent philosophy behind the prison system to remove criminals from society and punish first and possibly rehabilitate them later."

"That's just it," broke in Helen, her eyes shining with animation. "I had to work my arse off to get the Lifer's Group off the ground with the Home Office and I spent weeks of trying to reason with inmates, a lot of whom were cynical, bored and suffering from zero self-esteem to take a more positive attitude towards themselves. Needless to say, the moment I resigned from the Prison Service, that organisation was promptly wound up. I read that in Nikki's comprehensive investigations into Larkhall Prison which saw an attempt by the establishment to hound me with the Official Secrets Act, as if I were the criminal, for God's sake."

Helen's passionate words caused the debate took flight and everyone joined in. Paul contented himself in sitting back and providing the occasional intervention in his relaxed, easy going fashion. Only Jo Mills was silent. She saw how John eagerly joined in the further debate with Kristine, exchanging significant looks and smiles. It made her so angry to see the same old John at work, charming this woman. The only thing that struck her was that his taste in women was unusual as she was large built. Of course, she could tell that his eyes could see no further than this woman's breasts which were prominent and took his eye. It enraged her with righteous indignation to see John reverting to type.

Finally, Paul brought the meeting to a close. The group looked upwards at the old-fashioned clock on the wall and suddenly discovered how time had marched onwards. They felt suddenly hungry and in need of the food and coffee they were promised. They slowly filed out and headed towards the cafeteria.

Paul's main mission was to locate Nikki in the oxygen starved crowds and find out how she had got on. Suddenly, her tall figure emerged out of nowhere.

"How did you get on with your group Nikki?" he asked in a deliberately calm tone of voice.

"If you mean, did I make up for being a prat earlier on, the answer's yes. I did have to work hard to get some sort of response but the general conclusion was that tabloid headlines were more the problem than the solution."

"Hey, Nikki, don't beat yourself up about it. You were incredibly tense and Jo Mills put her foot in it, that's all," Paul said in his most soothing tones.

Tears suddenly formed in Nikki's eyes. Impulsively, she gave her boss a quick hug. Even now, little displays of kindness made her very emotional.

"Tell you what, I'm dying for a cigarette. You don't mind if I disappear," Nikki said in a husky voice as she let go of Paul. It wasn't any foolish notion of public embarrassment that was on her mind.

"Go to it, Nikki. You've earned it."

Figuring out that Nikki wanted, in order of importance, nicotine, isolation, space and fresh air, Helen sought out Jo. She'd been incredibly grateful for Jo's selfless, dedicated efforts for hers and Nikki's welfare in her partner's reappeal and beating the Official Secrets charge but she was really upset by Jo's earlier behaviour. More than that, she couldn't for the life of her reconcile the private Jo and the public Jo which seemed totally at odds from each other. John's reputation for philandering and his selfless dedication to justice were both more prominent and easier to explain. Suddenly, she saw Jo's startled expression as she saw Helen bearing relentlessly down on her as she knew it spelt trouble. Helen wasted no time but cut to the chase.

"Jo, I wanted to have a word with you. I say it again, you were way out of hand in your treatment of Nikki. At the very least, I demand an explanation of your behaviour."

"I don't want to talk about it, Helen. No doubt you see me as the Joan of Arc character in court, the perfect heroine. We can have our off days, you know."

"I know better than that. For a start, I've got Nikki and for another, we've both talked to John on a pretty intimate level," came Helen's snappy rejoinder. For the first time, Jo regretted that Helen's formidable skills in the witness stand made her a tough antagonist in a private argument.

"You've got your happy domestic scene with Nikki, and a child on the way and everything in your garden is lovely. You've obviously used to women so having a relationship with John Deed, that most complicated vexatious of men won't mean anything to you."

"That's where you're wrong, Jo," Helen retorted, her anger starting to overcome her sorrow. She saw the way Jo's hand and voice were trembling as she spoke, something that seemed disproportionate and inexplicable. "I've had boyfriends before, loads of them. I thought I knew the score."

"You don't know what I'm going through, Helen. So if you don't mind, I'm going elsewhere,"Jo said mysteriously before clattering her way through the crowds.

Finally, the meeting resumed and Peter Jenkins' introduction of John was short as, quite frankly, he didn't know the man. John took his notes in his hands but discussions today had given him food for thought and he was ready to improvise.

"I've been invited as guest speaker by the Howard League of Penal Reform and straightaway, I find myself in a dilemma. At the risk of giving information that a number of you might know, the question of guilt or innocence in a court of law is finally decided by a jury of twelve men and women and two barristers, locked in adversarial combat. To my mind, the level of proof of guilt must be utterly persuasive, that there is a high bar to jump over. However, I would be deceiving you if I pretended that judges have no role in the proceedings in comparison with the defending and prosecuting barristers, particularly where I'm concerned. My passion is to seek the truth in court as much as I seek it in life and I am notorious for asking questions as I please rather than let the barristers slug it out. If judges and barristers are such omnipotent learned beings as I've implied, then it might be argued what do juries who might be considered amateur in the ways of the law have to offer in an increasingly complex world? You might be surprised to know that all judges of different political stripes have a shrinking horror of any idea of juryless trials. The answer is simple. The sheer concentration of power and responsibility is dangerous when juries have the advantage that their lives are scattered out in the community and life experience counts for much more than the current political climate would have the public believe. This is one point that I can't overemphasise, one that me and my fellow judges fought off. However, this is not the end of the matter as I once supposed. Once the jury pronounces the defendant as guilty of the crime that he is charged, then I am left with my judgment as what sentence, if any, should be imposed, sometimes with the help of pre sentence reports."

John's even flow of words, though nuanced with his typical mix of dry humour, quietly passionate conviction and sheer wilfulness came to a stop as he sought a glass of water that was placed at the side of the lectern. He continued in a much different fashion.

"I freely confess that, up till recently, I hadn't really thought in terms of what happens to the prisoner, or what should happen to the prisoner. In the highly interesting discussions earlier on, I have endeavoured to listen to others more knowledgeable and learn from them. I have to confess that I've never actually visited a prison myself, only through the eyes of my good friends Nikki Wade and her partner Helen Stewart, However, I'm sure they would agree that there is no substitute for first hand experience though I would not choose to go as an inmate, only as a visitor in as honest a setting as is possible in that situation..."

John's smiled wryly as he suddenly confronted his intellectual shortcomings and he continued to struggle his way through a tangle of emotions as he tried to do justice to the insights he'd gained at the seminar. His self-deprecating manner impressed those in the audience who feared to be attacked by a repeat dose of self-importance that they'd endured earlier on. As he paused for breath, he was greeted by a murmur of appreciation that resonated its way round the hall. At one time, he would have been highly embarrassed by the gaucheness of his speech but he knew that his friends had quietly turned him around in this respect.

"...above all else, I have no love for the current mantra 'tough on crime, tough on the causes of crime' because, in practice, it doesn't stack up and everyone knows it," John concluded.

_"If you push your luck too far, there is nothing that Neil Haughton would love more than to see you in a striped uniform, breaking rocks in Dartmoor for real." _

John felt this thought transmit its way round the hall from George primarily and also from her friends and that steadied him. With greater confidence, he plunged into the part of his speech that he felt more confident about.

"There's another factor at work, the growth of a 'can I get away with it culture' which isn't just amongst the poor and deprived in society but which is increasingly prevalent amongst the rich and the powerful. I'm the son of a Birmingham baker and, like George Orwell, a writer and rebel of another era, went to Eton on a scholarship and on to Oxford. I saw many of todays leaders of society in their formative years and I grew up, believing in the values of 'the old school tie, ' 'doing the right thing', 'not letting the side down' and I foolishly supposed that those values endured. Instead I've found these values being flagrantly abused. My reputation as a radical, trouble-making judge is founded on taking these traditional values at face value and insisting that society lives up to them- at all levels of society. "

He felt Peter Jenkins anxious hand on his sleeve and shook it off.

"I know, I'm supposed to talk about prisons, that strange microcosm of a certain segment of society whose inmates are united by one thing, having been found convicted in a court of law and sentenced to a term of point is that criminals in the widest sense are more diverse in their cultural composition than you might suppose."

Sitting in the sixth row, Nikki's eyes were shining brightly, knowing that John was thinking of her and her stories of those who had been in Larkhall, of Barbara Hunt and Monica Lindsay. She couldn't wait to hear what this guy would get up to next.


	31. Chapter 31

**Scene Thirty-One**

Peter Jenkins had started to panic as John Deed squared up to launch into a blatent attack on everything he held dear. Now he knew why that dratted Wade woman had pushed him so much at the management meeting. He was infinitely relieved when the judge unexpectedly veered away from his political rant and towards more familiar territory that he was comfortable with, the sorry plight of prisoners. Of course he took credit for this shift in the speech as vibrations from his dominant personality had obviously warned him from going too far. After all, he looked and sounded like a pillar of the establishment, having been to the best schools and surely he ultimately must know where to draw the line. At the same time, he joined in with the audience's smiles and made a note to tell the next management meeting that the man was an entertaining would suit his purposes to rewrite history in a way that suited his purposes best.

He finally wound up the Annual General Meeting on a positive note, stating that his feedback from the seminars was that practical matters in the issues of the day had been identified and would be brought forward at the next management meeting. However, while he had remained the dominant master of ceremonies, he knew that he had not prevented the conference from taking a tougher, more confrontational stance in its relationship with the government. He would have to find some way of achieving that geometrical impossibility most commonly spoken of, of squaring the circle. By contrast, Paul and Nikki's places in the audience attuned them to public perception and they were immensely satisfied that the mood of the meeting meant that there would be long term benefits to their more combative stance. They joined in heartily with the applause with which the meeting was finally wound up at the end of a long hard day.

The Abbey Community Centre was a comfortable, congenial place and while there were those who had given their annual charitable donation and were free to go off elsewhere, others wanted to stay within the comfortable bubble of cameraderie and good fellowship so they headed for the cafeteria.

"You happy now, sweetheart?" Helen asked her partner whose feelings of relief were visible. The taller woman was gently coming down from her state of wound up tension which had been released once she had capably led her seminar group. John's speech had relegated her to the audience where she was happy to applaud from the sidelines.

"Thanks to your support, darling, and our friends, I'm feeling fine," she murmured, resting her hand on her partner's sleeve. It was only after a little while when consciousness of their friends crept over them. They found themselves standing in a middle of a group of their dearest friends, including a distracted looking John.

"Anyone know where Jo Mills has got to?"he enquired, his gaze attempting to conjure up the familiar shape of the smartly dressed blond-haired woman. "Who was the last to see her?"

"I saw her in the lunch break, judge," Helen confessed guiltily. "I had an argument with her over the way she treated didn't buy anything I told her and did a runner, something I would never thought she'd be capable of doing. We had the most bizarre conversation imaginable."

"Can you give me an idea what she was saying, Helen? I must confess that I can't talk to her these days," admitted John.

Helen responded to the insistent tone in her friend's voice despite his ostensible politeness. He was calling out for help and Helen knew that she couldn't resist She ransacked her memory to the best of her ability but had the sneaking suspicion that nuances were being lost in her translation.

"She was saying something like, how could I understand what it was like having a boyfriend being in a long relationship with Nikki. When I told her that I'd had boyfriends in the past, she said that I didn't know what she was going through. She turned away from me and was lost in the crowd. It's possible that she left the conference but I'm not sure..."

"It sounds like she flipped, something not unknown from my own personal experience as you've all seen recently,"gently interceded Nikki with a wry expression on her face. The expression of clarity in John's eyes demonstrated that Nikki had gauged the situation rightly. What she didn't realise was that Nikki's fearless honesty with herself showed Jo in a poor light by comparison. He had a strange feeling of viewing Jo from afar now that he had sharp minded friends to bounce ideas off who had no axe to grind.

"It's of no life is her own the same as my life is mine. We're both free to come and go as we please,"John said abruptly, his face tight with repressed emotion before becoming deliberately more cheerful. "I've thoroughly enjoyed myself speaking my mind as always. Right now, I'd like to enjoy your good company, to have a good time rather than go home on my own and mope."

The guy's attempt at devil may care bravado didn't deceive the women who surrounded him. Nikki and Helen had always sensed a trace of sadness in the guy's manner and now this came very prominently to the surface.

**"**I get the feeling you don't want to go home tonight, judge," Helen said with infinite compassion and sympathy. The trouble was that her observation contained so much truth in it, something that he had problems facing.

"The strange thing in my life right now is that right now, the women who I feel closest to me are you, you are all thoroughly admirable women, who I would stick up for against any criticism but there's just a little problem," John said, the laughter in his voice ringing hollow to Helen.

"Meaning that you haven't got the soul mate that I have in Nikki and vice versa."

"It goes further than that, Helen. I suspect strongly that if I had the chance to be happy in my life, I mean really happy, I'd be tempted to just screw it up for reasons I don't know. I feel safer with women like you and Nikki, George and Alice that I can't touch which is totally irrational..."

"You stick around with us, judge and we'll look after you. I mean it," Karen broke in, alarmed more than was apparent by the way John screwed his eyes up as he broke off speaking. Her blue eyes fixed John's to keep him onto her train of thought. "I know that however bad it gets, you really need your friends around and somehow you'll pull through the worst of what life throws at you."

Karen's gentle word brought John up short in ways that she had not present life with Beth by her side had brought a state of inner peace within her that she'd never known before and she felt sorry for this guy who was so down on his luck. The Karen Betts who had squandered valuable time and caring feelings on a succession of weak, self centred and unreliable men lived in a dimension other than her own except that they inhabited the same body. She'd left behind whatever shit she'd been through, especially the grotesque murder charge that had seen her reduced to a state of alcoholic despair.

John saw things differently. He remembered the succession of trials he'd either overseen or supported from the visitor's gallery as Nikki, Sally Anne Howe, Karen and finally Helen had taken their places on the stand, desperate for justice. He'd seen the pleading look in their eyes even though they'd stood up against punishing cross-examination and finally triumphed. He thought he'd empathised with their plight but was suddenly overtaken by feelings of inadequacy, despite his successful speech. Whatever he had done in his life didn't feel enough. Something about the way events had fallen had plunged him into a state of depression.

"Come on, John," George exclaimed with as broad a smile as she could conjure up. She could read his sense of guilt like a book and sought to turn over the pages. "We all know that you love being surrounded by gorgeous women and we are definitely the cream."

John looked around and smiled faintly at himself. He had been so eager not to cause any offence to these attractive lesbians that he had gone out of his way not to appraise their beauty in the same way that he'd always done when he'd sized up some prospective conquest for a night's sexual passion. These women were his friends whom he placed in an entirely different category. Now he was being invited to do just that but in an entirely harmless fashion. In his present state of mind, he thought he could allow himself the one off luxury of pretending a little and immersing himself in the feminine charms that surrounded him even if they were off limits. He was still feeling the after effects of his speech and his ego could do with all the boosting that it could get.

"You're right, George as always. I'd offer to buy in the drinks but I see that this place is teetotal. Ah well, I can live with it."

"You're better off than I, judge. I can drink you under the table any day," teased Karen. John laughed in response, knowing very well not to rise to the bait. All at once, the mood in the room lightened and all of them reached out towards having a companionable time of it and started chatting away inconsequentially . Beth looked on with great interest as she'd had least experience of the judge. He'd been part of the protective shield while Helen had gone head to toe with the tabloid press after being cleared of breaking the Official Secrets Act. Her own single- minded attention had been sharply focussed on seizing precious time for her own intervention. At work, Beth kept her distance from the pumped up rat pack male journalists, all cropped hair, uniform black suit and white shirt who viewerd her as a glamorous, unreachable doll. She'd be the first to admit to professional ambition but not at any expense. She suddenly saw that this guy was different, cultured, vulnerable and with compassionate depths. Now she could see the reasons for the strong affections her fellow lesbians felt for him and she liked him. To her, he was just one of the ladies. She smiled inwardly at this droll paradox and easily slipped into the generalised chatter.

Paul naturally gravitated to Peter, a quiet studious kind of guy and his very charming wife made for a very effortless couple and their serenity rubbed off onto him. It was what he needed after a hard day's conference. He felt nice and relaxed about himself and the conversation flowed easily between the three of them.

"How come you first got to know Helen?"Paul asked Claire out of his curiosity for the facts."Nikki tells me that you're her oldest friend."

Claire laughed lightly, her white even teeth showing. They had been united by one of those accidents of fate,worthy of a light-hearted drama series all of its own.

"By sheer chance, we both answered an ad to share a flat when Helen first came down to London. It made for a curious combination as we soon found out."

"Like chalk and cheese as it was from the beginning and for ever more will be," Peter added, smiling at some of the stories Claire had told her of her relatively virtuous past.

"And how," Claire retorted with feeling. "She was studying for her BSC in Psychology at London while I was doing my law degree externally. There I was, the careful responsible trainee solicitor holding down a steady job and Helen, the party girl until she had to catch up with her essays and then she could be unbelievably hard-working, drinking black coffee and scribbling through the night. Normally my memories were of of her, always laughing, a bottle of wine in one hand and some boyfriend in tow in the other. I never really kept track of them as they really were all one composite, the same person all along, some superficially charming smoothie who mouthed the right words but had no substance, no soul. When Helen first told me about Nikki when they got together, I remembered how impressed I was with Nikki from the very start when she was my client. Nikki is all soul and compassion and I knew instantly that they are the missing half of each other."

"Keep talking about me that way," Nikki's clear voice called out to general amusement. "It does my ego good."

Meanwhile Kristine perched a little uncertainly on the fringes of the conversation, a glass of fruit juice in her hand, until Karen spotted her. She'd been mightily impressed by this academic who somehow had her feet on the ground when she'd talked about the prison system. She'd had the feeling that what this smart woman had done had been to take the masses of experiences she'd lived through, given them a twist and pulled them together into the elegant pattern that she'd outlined. She'd sat back and admired this woman after Helen had broken into the conversation so eloquently. She'd also seen how she'd taken the judge's attention and how she'd zeroed in on the guy and smiled warmly and generously at this meeting of minds. Her instinct was that, all the time that John was holding forth in his customarily witty and sociable fashion, that half an eye was trained in her direction and, what's more Kristine knew it.

As George got up from her chair to get a coffee refill for herself and Alice, John took her place and gently patted Jules' back whose tail frisked back and forth, pleased to be taken notice of by one of these humans.

"At last, I've had the chance to talk to you, Kristine. You're one of the most remarkable women that I've met and I've been fortunate with the women who I've got to know recently."

Kristine felt a definite thrill run through her system as this man spoke in the very melodious, educated accent that played on her like a 'd always liked a bit of posh but she sensed the airy wave of his hand in his voice as he ostensibly referred to his female reality, this was one of his seduction lines but she resolved not to make the judge's conquest of her too easy. It was against her principles.

"You can be really bad, John Deed," Kristine said with slow deliberation in her voice to be greeted by raised wasn't the reaction he'd expected.

"You surprise me. I thought I'd done my share to pursue justice. Some of my friends here have appeared before either me or my friend Monty Everard and we have delivered them out of the jaws of hell. It has been a pleasure."

"I read the Guardian, online of course," Kristine answered in a deliberately slow paced fashion. John realised of course that, yes. she must have some way of working her way round her computer to follow her profession so somehow reading the newspaper must be possible. "I've followed your exploits over the years, both bad and good. Going on strike against the government was pushing the boundaries, for instance."

This woman was definitely playing with him, thought John. I'm interested in this game.

"I don't set out to be bad in my private life. It's just that I can never abide being told what to do. Show me an irrational rule bearing not the slightest resemblance to reason and I'm mightily tempted to break it."

"So bad can be good," Kristine said, lighting up a cigarette very conspicuously.

"How do you work that out?"

**"**It depends on how you define your terms,"came the answer with perfect poise.

George returned to see that John was ensconced with Kristine in an animated conversation and she grinned at Alice. She'd seen this sort of thing before but, this time, it was no skin off her nose. She considered that if Jo hadn't behaved so foolishly, this situation would never have happened. She silently wished John the best of luck as he deserved it.


	32. Chapter 32

**Scene Thirty Two**

Jo had such an unbelieveably vivid impression of lying forever in this big old armchair with a high back and plenty of space. She loved the feel of it all, the sense of timelessness, the feel of letting her hair down even if she didn't know how she'd got there, what day or time it was. That didn't matter. She held a glass of wine contemplatively in her hand as she stared at the image of her old friend Mel who lay on the plastic bean bag. She looked good to her eye in her tight denim jeans, slim legs sprawled out and wearing her zip up leather jacket. To her eye for detail, she couldn't help but note the way the stitching on the prominent seams ran up the inside of her friend's legs towards a central area that she was making no effort to , this meeting felt subtly different than other times. The room tilted and swayed gently in a dreamlike fashion, as they'd worked their way through the first bottle of wine together.

"Mel, why don't you take your jacket off. You must live in it," she heard herself exclaim out of nowhere as the idea came impulsively out of nowhere. To her surprise at such a cheeky remark, a slow smile spread across her friend's face.

"For you, darling, anything for an old friend," the slow, drawling reply was heard in Jo's consciousness.

Lying back lazily in her seat, Mel very slowly and carefully slid herself out of the slightly creased leather and draped the heavy jacket on the floor and Jo couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her friend wore a sleeveless black T-shirt cut very tight that showed her friend's physical charms to perfection. For the first time, Jo was aware of the vision of how well shaped Mel's arms were, that the lowish cut T shirt showed more than a hint of her breasts. Irresistably, her eyes were drawn to the nipples protruding through the black cotton. She couldn't believe what she was seeing as it was so bold, so daring. Her friend looked undressed before her eyes and Jo felt herself blushing furiously. This couldn't be real, Jo thought to herself dazedly, I must have had too much wine to drink.

"You like what you see?" Mel said teasingly. All at once, Jo started to wonder just why her friend had made a special effort with her makeup which certainly enhanced her facial characteristics. Her brown eyes had an especial sheen while her lips were well shaped. There was no doubt about it, Mel looked positively gorgeous.

"You were always the good looking one. You had that special allure. I remember that all the boys were after you," Jo replied, the words coming out of her mouth unbidden.

"Yeah, I remember them trying their luck. That was part of the reason I formed an all girl rock band."

"I can see that there's an obvious equal opportunities aspect," Jo found herself saying in starchy tones that Mel's challenging grin made hideously apparent. She knocked back the glass of wine in her hand to her friend's appreciative smile. Downing that drink might make all the difference to her throwing away all her restraints. "I mean why can't a woman with a guitar and making sexy moves pull a boy from the stage."

"Yeah, a lot of men had that illusion," Mel replied in derisive tones as she drank another mouthful of wine, "but me and the rest of the girls had our very special fun. It was all very discreet just who we let come backstage."

"I don't understand," Jo said her head starting to she was thinking what she'd been thinking, it put a completely different complexion on their relationship. Of course she'd known that she was young and innocent but not to the extent that was now becoming apparent. Her eyes kept flitting back to her friend's nipples and the way she was stretching herself out luxuriantly before her.

"It was the women, darling, the very tasty women whom we'd eye up from the stage. I told you before that I'm gay, don't you remember? If you must know, me and the bass player had that godawful row that night you sat in as she'd stolen the woman I'd been dating. Of course, it didn't matter a shit when you came down that evening and you played with us. Life could have been so much different."

"I never knew you were that promiscuous," Jo said with an element of frosty self-righteousness while her eyes never left her friend's body.

"Don't you understand that I was young then? It was a part of finding out who I was? I never hurt any woman I was with. If you've been given the gift of being attractive to others, with the sexual self-confidence that goes with it, if you want to be an outsider and want to make it, well then my morals are different from the shy and pure in heart."

It was the hurt look in her friend's eye and that appealing look in her eyes that made Jo feel that she'd been hasty and misjudged her. After all, hadn't Mel been her bubbling and effervescent self and had enabled herself to become more self confident and grow beyond the shy and solitary child she'd been whose only confidence was in her studies. She might not have become the successful barrister today if it hadn't been for that vital friendship way back when.

"I'm sorry, Mel. That was unforgivable of me," she found herself saying. Again, this conversation felt unreal as she was uncharacteristically willing to apologise.

"I knew you'd never let me down,"Mel said in soft and tender tones in the soft half-light. The recent slug of wine was working through her system and helping to dissolve her inhibitions. As her eyes were fixed on her friend, feelings welled up in her that made her see that her friend was really that strange moment of clarity that alcohol can bring, she could see beneath her friend's abrasive surface manner and could feel the tenderness radiating from Mel . Her lips were gently parted, her eyes were softly glowing and her body was gorgeous. The hardness of her nipples ceased to disturb her but was simply part of the very sexual being that lay before her senses.

"Besides,"and here Mel's voice turned soft and tender, "All I ever wanted was the one woman who remained tantalisingly out of my reach, someone who was my best friend at school when we were growing up."

"I never knew how you felt about me," Jo said in that distant tone of somehow wasn't surprised as she was starting to see that turning point in her life through fresh knew for certain that her very gorgeous friend desired her in the same way as she desired Mel. A rush of desire flowed through her, pulsing between her legs and she knew exactly what she wanted to do next.

Suddenly, Jo Mills became aware of the fading winter sunlight gradually separate herself from such an intense vivid dream. She lay on her side, feeling herself back in her own bed, not Mel's for some unnaccountable reason. The sensation of wanting to make love with her best friend Mel was so real. She could imagine the taste on her tongue of Mel's skin and could imagine lovingly caressing her hard nipples with her tongue. Everything was so vividly real. What was more, she could swear that she felt an area of moisture down below which was something she never experienced first thing in the morning and her hand was stretched down in just the right position. Jo laughed at herself as she couldn't believe herself. There was plenty of evidence to support the concept of people sleepwalking but she'd never heard of anyone pleasuring herself in her sleep and waking up to feel incredibly sexy.

She knew now that she really did fancy the pants off her best friend Mel, to borrow some of her had to admit that felt incredibly horny, again an unusual occurrence first thing in the morning. Her fingers slowly slid inside herself and she touched that part of herself that gave her most pleasure. She arched her back as she imagined that it was Mel's skilful fingers starting to get her rhythms working, not her own. Faster and faster her fingers worked as she imagined her lips tasting her gorgeous would be lover until with a huge sigh of satisfaction, a slow luxurious orgasm swept over her. As she lay back, legs apart, she felt unaccountably blissful satisfaction that she'd had her first lesbian orgasm. She hoped that it wouldn't be the last.

It was only later on as she lay in a sleepy half dream state, that she realised everything that had happened up till then. She'd been burning the candle at both ends, virtuously slaving away at her livelihood in the daytime, compressing her home studies to a minimum and compulsively going over to Mel's to chatter away, get drunk and enjoy her friend's sparkling conversation. Everything had finally caught up with her that day so she had blown her top with Nikki and hurried off home. Even though it was early afternoon, she'd flung her clothes off on her chair and crashed out in bed. It was then that this incredibly erotic dream had overtaken her. The trouble - if it was one- was that she knew that she would keep on pursuing Mel

"Is it all right if I have a word with you, Kristine?" Nikki asked politely as she followed the other woman out the back door to sneak a surreptitious cigarette while the social evening was carrying on unabated behind them. This wasn't just a pretext as she was going through severe nicotine withdrawal herself and spotted a fellow sufferer.

"I think I know what's coming," Kristine said in her restrained manner, reaching for her lighter and cigarette. "It's about me and John."

"You don't waste any time do you," Nikki said ruefully, not being used to anyone getting quicker to the point than she did. Perhaps she was becoming more mellow, polite and diplomatic as she got older and was losing her wasn't sure which side of the coin she was thinking from.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" came the slightly frosty reply, Kristine's hackles visibly last thing she wanted right now was some well-meaning lesbian giving her lectures on sexual dark-haired woman had obviously campaigned for her rights over the years and had got them. Fine by her but she and other blind people had their own fish to fry in terms of practical human rights and no one was exactly flocking to her banner.

"Just that you don't piss about when you have an argument. That's ironic because when I was a prisoner I was the original hard case who would spit in someone's eye as soon as look at them. You make me feel slow off the mark and far too much like the Queen for my liking."

Kristine laughed loudly at her friend's dry humour. Nikki had style and for that she could forgive this woman almost anything.

"I've been meaning to apologise to you and Helen when I gave the pair of you a hard time when I first got to know you. I ought to add this recent row to the list. What you don't know is that I'd just split up with my girlfriend and that didn't bring out the best side of my personality. I suppose I was putting you to the test to see just how honest you are. There's something else. I've always felt that I know where I am with total bastards. If I meet anyone who is supposed to be good, I'm tempted to test that out to see how it stands up in practice. I realised pretty soon that you and Helen passd that test. I regret that I never got around to telling you all this."

"That's really kind of you," Nikki said warmly as she gently patted the expectant Jules. Humans weren't allowed to exclude him from where the action was. "Everything makes sense now."

"I'd be interested to hear you explain any problems you have with John and me? It's obvious you and Helen know him pretty well," Kristine responded in respectful tones.

"You know that neither Helen nor I have an axe to grind and whoever makes the judge happy is fine by us. It doesn't bother us that you're making a definite play for him, but he doesn't know that you're bi. Don't forget that it took the judge time to assimilate two lesbians into his life experience, even an intelligent guy as he 's another thing also. I haven't got the slightest ideas as to quite what the obvious friction between him and Jo Mills is about but I don't want to see him hurt."

"You and Helen are an incredibly old fashioned romantic couple and I accept you for what you are. Perhaps I might envy you but I won't let myself as I'm a single woman and I value my independence, in not being tied down. I sleep with both men and women who are my friends and I know what's involved and so do they. You see John as someone who, deep down, wants to find the love of his life despite all his philanderings. I see him as someone who will never tie himself down with one woman but who may get to the point that he will remain friends with the women he sleeps with rather than treating them selfishly and generally pissing them off.I hear what you're saying and if things pan out, I won't mistreat him."

Nikki exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke as she measured and weighed every syllable in this clearly and slowly articulated exposition. Jesus, this woman is smart, she thought and she certainly made her think. She paused before she put her thoughts in order.

"In other words, Kristine, you're saying that Helen and I are projecting on the judge what we see in ourselves but you might be doing the same trick with yourself."

"You don't exactly roll over and die when I argue with you. Many others I come across do,"Kristine replied with a challenging grin.

"Helen and I aren't like other people and nor are the rest of the gang I know. They're all strong minded individuals in their own way."

Kristine mentally placed a large electronic tick besides that statement. The conversations that she'd listened to told her that loud and clear.

"There's nothing I love more than a good argument. It's very therapeutic," she said with a broad smile.

"So talking about arguments, are you and me right about John as he is now and the guy he could be? Possibilities and the will to achieve them count, you know," pursued Nikki, smoking the last of her cigarette.

"You don't give an inch either, Nikki.I think we understand each other very well. Let's put it this way, I don't think either of us will concede on our positions but I will seriously think on what you've said and I'll be careful what I'm getting John into. In the meantime, I think I've indulged my nicotine craving so I'll get Jules to do his business in the back yard and get back to John if you don't mind."

Nikki smiled widely as she finished her cigarette and returned to the crowd. She knew that her smoking days would be numbered when their baby was born so she was making the best of it while she could.


	33. Chapter 33

**Scene Thirty-Three**

Jo remembered how she loved the feel of lying back in this big old armchair with a high back and plenty of space, knowing that she was cheerfully letting her hair down. She'd dashed in after a satisfactory day's work to pick up the phone and accepted her friend's invitation to pop over for a drink on Friday night. She held a glass of wine in her hand, feeling comfortable and free as she stared at her old friend Mel who lay on the plastic bean bag. She looked good to her eye in her tight denim jeans, slim legs sprawled out and wearing her zip up leather jacket. To her eye for detail, she couldn't help but note the way the stitching on the prominent seams ran up the inside of her friend's legs towards a central area that she was making no effort to time, Jo thought with satisfaction that she knew what to expect as the room tilted and swayed gently, having both worked their way through the first bottle of wine together.

"Mel, why don't you take your jacket off. You must live in it," she exclaimed as if out of nowhere as the script started repeating itself. She knew what was coming next and a slow smile spread across her friend's face in response to the cheeky remark.

"For you, darling, anything for an old friend," came the slow, drawling reply.

Lying back lazily in her seat, Mel very slowly and carefully slid herself out of the slightly creased leather and draped the heavy jacket on the floor and Jo couldn't believe what she was seeing was for real. Her friend wore a sleeveless black T-shirt cut very tight that showed her friend's physical charms to perfection. For the first time, Jo was aware how well shaped Mel's arms were, that the lowish cut T shirt showed more than a hint of her breasts. Irresistably, her eyes were drawn to the nipples protruding through the black cotton. She looked so bold, so daring. Her friend looked undressed before her eyes and Jo felt herself blushing furiously despite her prior knowledge.

This is absolutely real, Jo thought dazedly. I know I've had too much wine to drink but that isn't it.

"You like what you see?" Mel said teasingly. Jo was pretty sure why her friend had made a special effort with her makeup which certainly enhanced her facial characteristics. Her brown eyes had an especial sheen while her lips were well shaped..

"You were always the good looking one. You had that special allure. I remember that all the boys were after you," Jo replied, the words coming out of her mouth just as she'd dreamed it.

"Yeah, I remember them trying their luck. That was part of the reason I formed an all girl rock band."

"I can see that there's an obvious equal opportunities aspect," Jo said just as if the record had got stuck and repeated itself so that Mel's challenging grin was perfectly in character . She looked at the glass of wine in her hand and knocked it back to her friend's appreciative smile. Downing that drink will make that tiny difference to her crossing that short bridge from fantasy to reality. "I mean why can't a woman with a guitar and making sexy moves pull a boy from the stage."

"Yeah, a lot of men had that illusion," Mel replied in derisive tones as she drank another mouthful of wine, "but me and the rest of the girls had our very special fun. It was all very discreet just who we let come backstage."

"So why don't you put me right on that one," Jo said for once breaking free of that predetermined remembered Mel telling her once that she was a lesbian and had only made a slip of the tongue earlier on and she could see where all these nights together were leading. She knew that ages ago she'd been young and ridiculously innocent. Her eyes kept looking at her friend's nipples and the way she was stretching herself out luxuriantly before her.

"It was the women, darling, the very tasty women whom we'd eye up from the stage. If you must know, me and the bass player had that godawful row that night you sat in as she'd stolen the woman I'd been dating. Of course, it didn't matter a shit when you came down that evening and you played with us. Life could have been so much different."

"I never knew you were that promiscuous," Jo said with an element of frosty self-righteousness that she immediately disliked about herself while her eyes never left her friend's body. Mel spotted that contradiction straightaway and bit back the angry words she could have 'd remembered how she'd reacted when Jo had turned down her offer to join the band. Only because her rejection seemed personal and overwhelming had she run away from Jo instead of lashing back with venomous words as she might have done. _Steady, girl, steady_, she told herself, _there's only so many times you can screw up in life. This woman must be worth something if you're this persistent. _

"Don't you understand that I was young then? It was a part of finding out who I was? I never hurt any woman I was with. If you've been given the gift of being attractive to others, with the sexual self-confidence that goes with it, if you want to be an outsider and want to make it, well then my morals are different from the shy and pure in heart."

It was the hurt look in her friend's eye and that appealing look in her eyes that made Jo know that she'd been wrong all along. After all, hadn't Mel been her bubbling and effervescent self and had enabled herself to become more self confident and grow beyond the shy and solitary child she'd been whose only confidence was in her studies. She might not have become the successful barrister today if it hadn't been for that vital friendship way back when.

"I'm sorry, Mel. That was unforgivable of me," she said. This was uncharacteristic of her to be willing to apologise and must mean something.

"I knew you'd never let me down,"Mel said in soft and tender tones in the soft half-light. The recent slug of wine was working through her system and helping to make her believe that her fantasies could become fact. As her eyes were fixed on her friend, feelings welled up in her that made her see that her friend was really that strange moment of clarity that alcohol can bring, she could see beneath her friend's abrasive surface manner and could feel the tenderness radiating from Mel . Her lips were gently parted, her eyes were softly glowing and her body was gorgeous. The hardness of her nipples was simply part of the very sexual being that lay before her hoped and prayed that she could cross the narrow gap that lay between them.

"Besides,"and here Mel's voice turned soft and tender, "All I ever wanted was the one woman who remained tantalisingly out of my reach, someone who was my best friend at school when we were growing up."

"I never knew how you felt about me - till recently," Jo said in that distant tone of 'd added that cryptic confession to see how well it went down and she saw Mel's eyes widen with delight..

"Not even when you played that gig with me and you slept at my house, in my bed? Don't you remember?"

"It was a magical night," Jo sighed with unashamed pleasure of reliving the moment. "I'd done something amazing, daring in playing bass guitar with the rest of you in that pub. If I ever returned to it, it would seem very ordinary but that's not how I remembered it. That performance happened out of nowhere.I remember lying in the back of the van with amplifiers, guitars and drums all around us and creeping up to your bedroom at the dead of night. It felt so snug being tucked up alongside you and chatting away about everything. You felt so close. It took ages before I fell asleep..."

Mel saw with a sense of rising wonder to see how her friend was coming more and more out of her shell. Maybe the fork in the road could be conjoined after all as she saw a bleak, miserable look in her friend's eyes as she continued her story.

"I knew the next day when I stupidly blew it. I should never been afraid and lost your friendship- and so much more. I regret that now."

"What's done is done. Maybe it isn't too late now if you would only let me in," the very attractively soft voice articulated, stirring something indefinable in fantasies could really come true. It was true, an inner voice said softly and clearly to her, whatever hurt had been caused could be healed, the wrong turn remedied.

Jo sat wide eyed as her friend clambered out of the bean bag and sat on the chair arm. Only a few days before, she might have thought that she ought to say no to what her friend might be suggesting but she definitely didn't want to say took her hand in hers and gently stroked her fingers, one at a time. The feeling of gentleness emanating from Mel was overpowering, so that living outside of herself felt good. She looked up at her friend and smiled warmly, freely and when Mel's other hand gently stroked her hair, she felt as if she was finally at home with herself and everything round her. She sighed with pleasure as Mel's fingertips started to gently stroke her face and her friend adjusted herself to be more down to her level. The perfume that emanated from this very attractive woman was heady, intoxicating, everything that she'd dreamed of..

"Perhaps I've been persuaded to see things from a different point of view," Jo murmured, a half smile on her face and the light in her blue eyes. "I'm not clear on the details, that's all."

The other woman gently exhaled her growing delight as she knew now how Jo felt, dissolving her self restraint in the heat of her long pent up libido. She was on fire inside and the centres of her desires were pulsing.

"Then I'll show you the way. I'll look after you, dearest friend of mine," she murmured in her sultriest, sexiest tone of voice.

Mel couldn't believe her luck as Jo obligingly moved to the side of the armchair, allowing her to slide off the chair arm. She gently stroked each cheek with her fingers and ever so slowly, ever so gently, brushed her lips against her friend's once, then a second and a third time. She couldn't believe her ears as she heard soft murmuring sounds from her supposedly straight friend and, still more so, as she felt delicate fingers running through her hair. Everything was soft, magical and fuzzily out of focus in the half-light and finally Jo was emboldened to slide her arms round her lover and feel Mel's much desired breasts against her own. Nothing existed outside this small room as they kissed more deeply and Jo's unashamed permeated her consciousness. As Mel's expert fingers started to slowly unbutton her white shirt, starting from the top, she started to slide her leg against Jo whose own desires were flooding inside her.

Mel was her oldest, dearest friend who'd always cared for her, Jo thought excitedly as her tongue started to caress her friend's in a sensuous way that she'd dreamed of Making love to another woman was perfectly natural if she put her mind to it. It was as if all the women she had got to know, Nikki and Helen, George and Alice were smiling on at her, lending encouragement to her for getting the message.

As their passions started to rise, both women twisted out of the settee and onto the floor, Mel lying on top of her, legs straddling her and at last they were lying full length against each other.

"I never knew how gorgeous you were till recently,"Jo murmured as she started to gently ease that much desired T shirt upwards.

"Sweetie, you've been ogling me all evening," laughed Mel intimately as she caught sight of her friend's small but shapely breasts that weren't concealed behind her sensible white bra. Never mind, she thought, these are hidden fires within Jo, much as she'd always suspected.

"Yeah, but ogling's not enough, sweetheart. I want to see you,feel you and taste you," Jo said as she carelessly cast aside the remnants of her exterior self protection. In her highly charged emotional state, she loved the idea of lavishing endearments and delivering caresses on the woman who she now knew she adored with all her heart. Nothing and no one else mattered to her right then..

"Anything for you sweetie," came the reply as Mel suddenly arched her back and whipped off her top. Jo gasped in amazement and then groaned in unabashed sexual desire. She had never thought that Mel would have an excitingly lithe female body, her hard nipples standing out from her firm , Jo found herself lying on top of her lover, gleefully taking the initiative, having flung off her shirt and bra, her mouth and lips luxuriating in the taste of her lover's body and her right leg rubbing up against her lover's centre. This was more like it, she sighed as she felt her lover's hips start to move in its own rhythm. There were a couple of things left over that demanded desperate alterations.

"I want to go to bed with you, make love with you. Right now," Jo urged, her voice laden with desire. Both women stumbled to their feet and, bodies locked together,they whipped off what was left of their clothes and made a dive for the bed. Tears formed in the dark-haired woman's eyes as she realised how hungry Jo was for her and everything she'd dreamed of was now actually happening. This was the life, the fair haired woman sighed as she felt naked skin against naked skin and she ran her tongue the length of her lover's neck. As she felt Mel's fingers trace a pattern down her belly, it didn't need sixth sense to know that her ardent lover was going to penetrate her to her very core. A wave of the most exquisite orgasm shook her and made her cry out in joyous exhaltation as now she knew that was exquisitely right something that she had stupidly feared about herself all her life. She was going to learn everything that her expert lover was teaching her and to give back in equal measure. It was only fair, after all, something she'd always believed in.

Many hours later, Jo was in seventh heaven as her tongue explored her lover's most intimate regions and she savoured the taste in her loved the way their bodies were like one in the intimacy of the darkness She hadn't believed that a multiple orgasm had ever been possible but then again, this was the first time that she had let her old friend and lover's charms let loose on her. They were both sexually insatiable. She knew very well that soon, they would roll around in bed and it would soon be darling Mel's turn to pleasure her.

Consciousness dawned on Jo by gradual degrees as the morning sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains and into her senses. Some mind process told her to begin with that she was having a sleepover with her best friend Mel, especially as her fingers reached out to the feel of soft smooth skin and the familiar shape of her nose resting on the pillow, her head turned sideways to face Jo's. She could feel her own left leg doubled up and lying along the length of her friend's body. Everything felt snug and comfortable under the duvet and Jo sighed with satisfaction born of a blissful feeling of wellbeing inside her. She'd spent the Friday night making passionate love with Mel and her fantasies of a couple of days ago were now reality. Mel was her girlfriend, a lovely sounding word. This was the way to wake up in the morning with that blissful feeling of being halfway between a waking and a dreaming state of realised that she wasn't wearing a nightie as she normally did and neither was Mel and this was right as well. She sighed with was exactly as she wanted it to be.

"Tell me darling, you kept telling me in different ways that you'd known how I'd felt about you. You weren't quite the innocent that I'd expected," Mel said in a very happy, sexy tone of voice that gave Jo pleasant twinges. Her leg slowly caressed her lovers and she smiled slowly with great satisfaction.

"As it happened, I came home early on Wednesday afternoon after having had arguments at this conference. I crashed out and had this very erotic dream of you. I woke up feeling incredibly horny so I masturbated, just thinking of you."

Mel hadn't really been expecting this. She had woken up earlier on feeling like a million dollars with the feel of Jo's body interlocked around hers. Her friend looked so peaceful with her rumpled fair hair, that look of sweet repose. She had never expected that cautious strait-laced Jo Mills could have sexually let herself go and they'd shagged the living daylights out of each other, especially such a respectably widowed woman with two sons at university. She knew above all her old friend's capacity for guilt and how it could spill over in different directions. She hadn't expected there to be no guilt.

"Hey that is fantastic, sweetie. Come here and give me a kiss."

Expertly, Jo slid on top of Mel and savoured the feeling of her body lying against her lover and gave Mel a long, deep luxurious kiss, playing with her lover's tongue. She loved the feel of her lover gently ruffling her hair and stroking her back. Lazy images lay before her eyes of her friend's tight black top and protruding nipples the night before and sensations of the feel of her friend's skin, her lips, her hair and other gorgeous areas of hers that came to mind.

"Jo, I can't believe that someone I thought of yourself as a straight woman would have no problems in crossing over the road as it were," Mel finally said slowly and clearly, placing both hands either side of her friend's face.

Mel still couldn't believe her luck. Jo didn't jump out of bed, fumble at her scattered clothing to attempt to return to wasn't seen as a wicked seducer of an innocent woman but as the kindly woman she'd always been behind her wild exterior. Jo knew that she was now attracted to all Mel's diverse quality and blessed herself in finally owning up to herself, whatever that self might be.

"What say you lie in bed darling Mel and I'll make us a morning cup of tea. I'll come straight back to bed. All I know is that I can't get enough of you," Jo replied in soothing tones with an undertone of desire.

Mel nodded with feelings of utter bliss. She hoped that Jo wouldn't bother with a nightie but would carry the tea tray to their bedside table for all her charms on open view to lust over. Somehow she knew that this was Jo's precise intention.


	34. Chapter 34

**Scene Thirty-Four **

George had a subsidiary reason to be grateful for the Howard league of Penal Reform AGM as it enabled both her and Alice to temporarily push the Becky problem to the background. She knew very well that this was unresolved and now that she'd heard the grossly improbable truth about Becky's sexuality, just what in hell should she do with this knowledge? She was highly aware that only John's considerable power of persuasion and his honesty had got her to accept this most grotesquely improbable story as fact. Telling this third hand account to Alice without an atom of objective proof to back it up felt utterly impossible. What made it worse was that Alice had slept with the woman so first hand experience was on her side. The final reason for her restlessness was that it was nearly ten days since she'd heard this story from John and sitting on this story threatened the strongpoint of her relationship with Alice, total honesty between them. The only solace was the shaft of wisdom that John had offered to her _Then say to her that if she really wants you to do the job as the caring consort in the run up to the trial, your own peace of mind is owed the need to talk to her so you know what she's dealing with. _

In the meantime, Alice went back to her work and tried to stay out of the limelight. The official reprimand from her manager had hurt her self-esteem and she could sense the controversy that buzzed around in a low-key fashion as the story about her client being stabbed by her daughter while she was present. All knowing eyes were bound to find out sooner or later that she'd been in a sexual relationship with her client's daughter and she was required to attend court as a witness. It threatened to undo her patient steady work of having her sexuality accepted where it had intersected with her professional obligations. She knew better than to expect that a profession dedicated to helping out the weak and the vulnerable would be necessarily immune from the 'nosy parker' syndrome. She became more guarded, more wary and she bottled up her feelings and that didn't feel good. When the time came to go home and she hadn't got a visit to a client, she clicked off her computer, watch the screen fade to black, took the warm winter coat from off the coat rack and said a perfunctory goodbye to the others. She could deal with the icy blast of wind and rain until she could drive on home to be greeted by her lover.

George had been Alice's lover for over a year now and time had only deepened the nature of their relationship and their opposite characteristics had only drawn them closer. George had loved the way she could be natural and loving with Alice without abandoning her theatrical nature while Alice had found someone that was worthy of her warm-hearted nature, someone that she admired and loved. However, George had come to think, deep down, that Alice's very qualities threatened to be her undoing and , in this situation, she hadn't thought with her head as well as her heart. It was sheer loyalty and love that held George in there but she knew that her own seemingly guilty knowledge was making her constrained in her manner. She also knew that Alice's perceptive nature not to say her professional skills couldn't fail to pick up on her was running out on George and she knew it.

George had her own complications in her professional life. She'd witnessed the argument between Jo and Nikki and how John had taken Nikki's side, not Jo's, had heard quickly enough through the grapevine how Jo had compounded her blunder in rowing with Helen. This had meant that the atmosphere between John and Jo had been poisoned, professionally speaking and, as ill-luck would have it, both George and Jo appeared together before John in court that day. Right through the trial, Jo's manner was more peremptory than normal while John ruthlessly cut down her submissions on points of law and was in severe danger of favouring George by comparison. It had taken all of George's newfound skills in diplomacy to weave her way through the trial drama, in more sense than noted ironically how the subject matter of the trial was threatening to become incidental to the real proceedings.

Right at the end of the first day of the trial, George found herself in the locker room with Jo, a heavy silence hanging on the air when Coope came to pass a message. She hadn't been in the courtroom that session but she could feel the tension in the atmosphere immediately.

"Mrs Mills, the judge requests your presence in his chambers," she said in as neutral a tone of voice as she could conjure up

"What about Mrs Channing?" Jo demanded in peremptory tones.

"He made no mention of her."

"Then you know as well as I do that such a request is impossible, unethical and completely contrary to the rules of etiquette. Either both of us or nothing," Jo retorted to the woman, slamming shut the metal door to her locker. George glared in Jo's direction as she well knew that Coope couldn't answer back in a similar vein.

"I'll pass the message back to the judge," Coope replied with an audible effort at self-restraint. Scarcely had the sounds of Coops heels died in the air when George let fly.

"What the hell is up with you, Jo? What on earth have you got against John? You've dug yourself in deeper and deeper since you put your foot in it at that Howard League Conference, rather than just make a one off gaffe."

"That's none of your business," Jo said in a low tone of voice, visibly colouring.

George opened her mouth in was something here that she didn't understand. Her mind was starting to work at a furious pace as she strove to

In the past, the invariable pattern of any conflict between Jo and John was that somehow, John had made an idiot of himself in his personal life and Jo was the injured party. All the time that Jo had worked away up North, John had surprised George by leading an apparently blameless life. Of course, he had his affairs but nothing that would bring him to public censure as he had in the past. Lurid scandals came to her mind, when John slept with a litigant before giving judgment against her, when he had allowed himself and Jo to be photographed in bed together at the digs and Jo was hauled before the Professional Conduct Committee. In fact, John's warm friendship with Nikki and Helen had effected a change for the better, making him more sensitive and willing to admit mistakes. The Helen Stewart trial had brought her and Jo to a very amicable working relationship and had seen Jo and John move back towards the sort of relationship she was having with Alice. Now this world was being unaccountably turned upside also noticed that Jo was looking more tired than she was used to, as if she were burning her candle at both ends, George dismissed that possibility as she knew that Jo lived in the country in the house she'd always lived in. The only thing that George knew about Jo's home life was a stray reference to the arrival in the area of an old promise to John a week or so to intercede with Jo came back to her and she decided to grab the opportunity straightaway.

"Is there something going on that I should know about Jo?" George asked gently, feeling her way.

"Whatever problems there may be between John and I, we are best placed to deal with them. Thank you for your interest but no thanks. If you excuse me, I have to get ready for tomorrow,"Jo replied shortly, her face like a mask. With that, she shot off out of the room, leaving George to consider that months away from Neil Haughton's presence made it harder to disentangle politicianspeak when she came across it. She resolved to drop the matter until she and Jo were away from this contentious trial

No matter how down in the dumps Alice felt, she always loved the immediate feel of embracing her lover after a hard day's work as it made her feel free and wanted. Nevertheless, she couldn't stop herself sliding back into a morose, uncommunicative manner, knowing that her impending presence at Becky's trial was inching ever closer. This time, she noticed with surprise that George's welcome cup of tea on bone china had no milk with it. She immediately laid it down on the side her but was astonished to hear her partner exclaim with disgust that she'd done the very same thing for herself.

"What's going on darling? I've never known you to be so absent minded. The heavens will fall in before the Channing gene gets the cup of tea wrong."

George laughed lightly at Alice's little joke which was also an incisive doodle on George's personality.

"I've been spending my time being tactful and diplomatic while Jo's been acting like a bear with a sore head with John.I was going to ask you a question as you have more experience of the 'gay scene' and that is, could a straight woman like Jo Mills be tempted off her very fenced in beaten track to have a dalliance with another woman?"

This took Alice aback. She started to think back of all the women she'd met at Chix and suddenly realised the two women right under her very nose that fitted the bill admirably.

"When I think of all the women who I've known at Chix, some started on the scene even though there was a boyfriend in the background. In that situation, sooner or later they've either dropped back into the straight world or finished with their boyfriend. Then again, there are women like you and Karen who've grown up straight, got married, had children and then realised just where their real sexual orientation is. As for Jo Mills, perhaps still waters run what's sparked off this question anyway, darling?"

"I had a long talk with John a week or so ago and he couldn't work out why Jo was holding him at arm's length despite him being incredibly patient. He got to talk about her old schoolfriend called Mel who moved to her village and pretty well monopolises her time so he feels frozen out. John even asked me if in my expert opinion there was anything going on between them and I laughed that one out of court, so to speak. However, after having an argument with Jo about her recent bad behaviour, I felt strongly that any problems are down to Jo, not John this time and I ought to rethink my ideas."

Alice had felt tired and dispirited when she got home but George had sparked off an interesting relationship question that was dear to her professional instincts and involved people she knew. Looking at her lover's impeccable smart blue suit, slightly above the knee, crisp white shirt and high heel shoes inspired amorous feelings in her. This prompted her to appraise Jo by comparison. Her first instinct was to consider that, yes, Jo was an attractive woman but not one who floated her boat. Finally, her thoughts were settled into place and she delivered her verdict.

"I couldn't quite imagine Jo Mills coming to Chix like you and Karen did as I swear to God that you looked so luscious that I snapped you up in double quick time. Beth made sure of Karen for the same reason so that no other woman could get their hands on her. You are both babe material to another woman," Alice said in that soft, clear fashion that did wonders for George's lively imagination.

"You say the most delightful things, darling," George purred as she let Alice's dextrous fingers reach out to her from behind, slip a few shirt buttons loose and gently stroke her skin. "You and I might not fancy Jo but there might be a woman on this earth that might and, who knows, Jo might wonder about all the fun she's missing out all her life, mightn't she."

"Perhaps," Alice murmured, starting to kiss George's neck and start exploring a little further. "Perhaps she's gay, perhaps she's bi, perhaps she's super straight. Who cares? I have enough problems to deal with."

It was at this point that George could feel herself tensing up inside. She was edging closer and closer to the point of decision as to whether or not to drop the bombshell about Becky on her lover so that she could be honest with her lover and risk her freaking out. Alternatively, she could opt to maintain the peace over a matter that might never get out. What was nagging at her was the knowledge she'd obtained that Brian Cantwell had taken on the prosecution and had dispensed with the firm of solicitors which included Nikki's useless brother. George was very fearful that what she'd found out through circuitous means, so could a halfway decent solicitor who was prepared to dig around and this could be dropped on Alice during cross was nothing for it, she would have to tell Alice. Too much time had elapsed already.

"Something's wrong darling," Alice said in a concerned tone of voice with a curious edge to it, "I can feel it in you."

George fumbled for her cigarette case. This was going to be one of the hardest things she'd ever said in her life. Just because they'd not talked about this frightful woman for a fair while didn't mean that Alice would take this in her stride. She wanted to rearrange everything in the room to their liking before she started to speak.

"Before I say what's on my mind, I insist that you sit down on the settee. Believe me, this is for the best and might not be easy on the ear. This doesn't directly involve us- or it needn't do."

"What on earth are you saying," Alice said, breaking free, a sense of alarm starting to spread through her nervous system. She followed George's instructions unthinkingly.

"I came across some more news from John which I have to tell you which you won't like to hear," George said in slow deliberate tones, standing over Alice as she spoke. "As I said earlier, I got to talking to John about his troubles with Jo and his inquisitive self noticed that I wasn't exactly in glowing spirits myself. He prized out the whole story of Becky Elliott and we talked about her court case coming up."

"Why did you have to tell him? I mean that was private any case, you could have talked to Nikki or Helen or any of the ladies?" protested Alice angrily.

"Why indeed? Why John? Because he's my ex-husband, he's a friend of mine who's known me for a long time. Because my thoughts about Becky could be considered mean, vindictive and nasty and John's seen me at my best and at my worst. Because I value his expert legal mind when you come to take the stand at your ex's trial. I know how Nikki, Helen and the rest of the gang would have emotionally rallied round me when what I need is someone who can be emotionally detached from the situation. Because, well he's a man and sometimes they help..."

"So what happened next?" Alice said, trembling all over and trying to slip into social worker questioning mode.

"John asked me the craziest question, like do I have a picture of that woman. Only he would think of that and, as it happens, I did."

"What?" Alice exclaimed in horror. This was more unbelievable than anything she came across in her professional duties.

"Don't worry, I've not gone mad. The logic of it is for me to know my enemy so I can deal with her better, emotionally speaking. Anyway, whatever the reason, I showed him the photograph." At this point, George paused and ran her tongue across her lower lip. Her nerves were pulsing all over her body and she felt worse than any trial she had conducted as her honour and love were both at stake. Finally, she willed herself to continue. "This is the part of the story where you need to prepare yourself for a shock, darling. John recognised the woman. He remembered going to the sort of singles bar he used to frequent and meeting her. They went onto a discreet hotel and ended up sleeping together for the night. She was gone in the morning before he woke up."

Alice opened her mouth as her world fell in. This was the one side of her ex that Alice was sure of and now George was pulling her foundations down on what had been precious between the two of them, no matter how badly she had behaved.

"If you've got some grand scheme to discredit Becky, you will have to do better than 're overlooking one very obvious problem. The woman is gay, absolutely one hundred per cent gay. Watch my lips move. I went out with her for months. I should know."

"That's the very first thing I shouted at John except the last bit," George said in unexpectedly subdued tones, looking Alice straight in the eye. She had picked up the undertone of bitterness in Alice's shouting and became unnaturally calm. She did not know where she had got this mood from but she blessed whatever it was that made her feel that way.

"Why on earth would a woman who had got used to sleeping with other women suddenly want to hang round some straight pickup joint waiting for John to pick her up? This is totally crazy."

"That's the second point I hurled at John with the full force of what I am capable of," George said in level, clear tones, never dropping her gaze away from Alice for one moment. "His reply convinced me when he said that he didn't doubt that you are being honest with me but, if this woman is as devious as she is made out to be then who can tell what sort of life she leads that you don't know about?"

"I can't get my head round this," Alice said, her long hair all awry, putting her hands to her head. "What if this is some scheme by John to blacken Becky's name to me or to you for the same purpose. You must look at this from my point of view."

"All right," George said in forceful tones as the block on her feelings of detestation of Becky suddenly came to the surface in terms she could articulate. The words she had held back poured out in measured tempo. "I've held off saying what I really feel about her. I'll tell you what I think about Becky Elliott. She's a sly, conniving, drunken, manipulating tart who had consistently exploited your kind hearted nature for her own ends and would drag you down given half a chance. I've done my best to stop you being sucked up into yet another drama of her own creation. That is quite enough to blacken her name so for me to accuse her of lying about her sexuality is only icing on the cake. You look at this from my position. I have no motivation in pushing my knife further into her than it is already and, believe it or not, John's view of our relationship is entirely benevolent and well meaning. He has no axe to grind and you'd better start believing it."

For the first time, Alice became fully aware of her partner's manner. She was only standing up to keep the weight of her worries bearing down on her. She knew also that George could only mean well for her and it was time for her to expunge from her system the tail end of this obsession for Becky, the existence of which she'd been denying to herself. At last she was starting to see. Suddenly the whole emotional force of the way she'd been manipulated, lied to and betrayed by this deceitful cow. The sudden upsurge of stress that built up inside her like an exploding volcano was making her in danger of hyperventilating. Finally, the obvious answer opened up in front of her eyes.

"Do you mind if I go into the kitchen and have you any china I can safely break?"

""Top cupboard on the left, Please feel free to take as much time as you like," George replied pleasantly. She sensed that she would see an entirely new and pleasing side to Alice's personality and took Alice's place as the dark-haired woman strode purposefully towards the kitchen.

A minute later, some of the most colourful, vengeful, vitriolic language turned the air blue all focussed on Becky Elliott with the white hot heat of a flamethrower followed by two sharp crashing sounds of broken china. It did George good to see her partner show some real spirit and she liked her partner's might have done the same if she was in Alice's shoes. After all, she'd once been incensed enough to throw a glass of wine in John's face at a crowded party.

"Do you feel a lot better darling?" George asked with her drawling tone and wide smile as a dishevelled looking Alice returned, her chest heaving with the sudden outburst of physical and emotional energy. "By the way, I thoroughly approve of your actions."

"Never felt better," Alice said in slightly husky tones before she started to get a grip of her surroundings. "You need a drink George and so do I. Can I fetch you one?"

A blessed feeling of relief spread through George's system at the way Alice's anger had dissipated and she was returning to normal. With a shaking hand, George poured an extremely large dry Martini and a splash of lemon which she repeated to dose Alice's vodka. She placed the glass in Alice's hand, the contents of which was swiftly downed. George sat down and drank hers nearly as fast. It had been a rough day.

"George, darling. Can I apologise enough to you. I've been really horrible to you," Alice said in trembling tones, looking George in the eye. George's incredible loyalty to her suddenly hit home with the force of a sledgehammer, that she had been there for Alice all along. The dark- haired woman who was sprawled on the sofa looked beautiful to George's eyes as she apologised with tears in her eyes.

"Of course you can. Mind you, I've got the same to do for John but not in the same way as I want to do for you right now."

Alice flung her arms round George's neck and they both embraced passionately. George's instant forgiveness and touch of humour was inexpressibly endearing right now. In turn, the fair-haired woman could feel her lover's long fingers running through her hair and her lips against her neck. The outburst of righteous violence, the shot of alcohol and the glorious clearing away of the emotional darkness was precious deliverance for both of them.


	35. Chapter 35

**Scene Thirty-Five**

Jo finally made her decision about her future as she drove down from her cottage up to London on Monday November 24th 2002. The past weekend was emblazoned in her mental diary, the one where she had finally fallen head over heels in love with her girlfriend Mel. Now she looked back, she could see how for some while, she had increasingly felt strangely and impulsively schoolgirlish in the way that she spent more and more of her time running about with Mel. She felt a little bleary eyed because over the weekend, she had only stayed at her home for the segments of time on Saturday when she devoted herself to her case in hand that would run into the second day on Monday and she did the bare minimum of housework. The rest of her time, she'd been ensconced with Mel. A wide grin spread across her face as she boldly replaced the maidenly modesty of her last words and considered that it would be more accurate to say that they'd spent the majority of their time fucking each other in every conceivable acrobatic pose imaginable, tasting every inch of each other's skin and pleasuring each other in an uninhibited fashion. It had exposed her past sexual experiences as being unbelievably Victorian and prudish. She thought of herself as having a girlfriend, a smile of pleasure remained on her face as she savoured the wicked, daring word. They'd only broken off for something to eat at the tea room and to jam around on Mel's guitars, having fun and singing songs. Everything they did together made her feel young again. She was sure that she really loved Mel and cared about her, wanted to be part of her world and had succeeded in doing so. She blessed the opportunity offered to her in doing what she should have done when she was in her teens, only she was then too shy and nervous. Her life felt now so spectacularly different and she approached the next week at work, her nervous system feeling that immeasurably tranquil, comfortable cotton wool sensation that all was right with her world.

It even meant that she was comfortable enough to be able to finally tell John that their relationship was over, kaput, finito, to borrow some of Mel's colourful slang she realised that she'd never dared to take a long good hard look at herself so that her thoughts had been churning around in a state of confusion that she couldn't begin to describe or name. She'd thought that she returned to London from a spell in working up north, she'd be able to view her life with a new perspective but she'd found that there were subtle changes in John and that disoriented her. Ultimately, she knew now that what she really thought she was doing was to carry on her life in the same old way as before. It was Helen and Nikki, of all people who had sought to gently urge them back together right after Helen's trial verdict. Because these two perceptive women thought that this was what she and John needed, she had mentally gone along with it on the surface but her one reservation to take her relationship with John slowly seemed a reasonable precaution to get things right this time in view of their past track record. In retrospect, it was a form of buying herself time for her to work out in her head what she really wanted out of life. She could see now that she'd declined offers to go to 'Chix' after Nikki's successful reappeal and again after Sally Anne Howe's compensation claim for what she had thought were very good practical reasons while George went there and met Alice. She could even remember being vaguely jealous of George's good fortune but, of course, she couldn't own up to it. Now she knew that she'd been afraid of what or who she'd find there. It was all so absurdly simple. She had also told John in the past that she could never live with him because of his philandering ways. He'd taken her by surprise by changing the rules of the game, of their fraught relationship they'd had in the past. Everything around her had sought to confuse her, to make her wonder where she was placed in life. It was only when her close friendship with Mel trurned into something else when she finally sorted through the infernally complicated jigsaw puzzle that was her life.

Travelling up to London didn't let these angular sharp edges of reality depress her too much as she perceived them through a softly tinted golden glow of positivity. She did make the good resolution to keep up her standards in her court cases. After all, that was her livelihood. As she started to tentatively sketch out her future, she started to speculate about the critical reality of informing John of her decision. It shouldn't be too much of a trouble, on the face of it as she was only following first George's and then Karen's example in how to lead her life. The trouble was that she'd recently had some unaccountable row with Nikki, Helen, George and John. It occurred to her that her public 'coming out' might not be as easy as for the others as public opinion would be ranged against her her and would support John, especially George. A flash of irritation ran through her as it seemed that John had very cleverly enlisted the lesbian community in his support, and she resented it. It made her feel all the more determined to obey the promptings of her heart. When she thought about it, this was the guiding principle of the way she operated in her career, her legal training being only the techniques necessary with which to operate. Hadn't she taken on Nikki's reappeal and, together with George, her defence of Helen against the outrageous tyranny of the Official Secrets Act? She ought to at least get some recognition for her efforts.

As soon as she came to her office, her secretary fetched her a cup of strong black coffee which she accepted gratefully, this being a recent habit of hers and it did help to perk her up a bit for the day. She immediately got her mind focussed on the court case in hand and dredged up the thinking and work she'd done on Saturday and tried to banish the rather ravishing thoughts of her scantily dressed girlfriend as she'd last seen found the dry details of the trial file swim a bit before her eyes but she gulped down the rest of the coffee, arranged her makeup, gave brief instructions to her secretary on other cases that were pending. She was halfway out of the door when she realised that she'd left her trial notes on her desk. She scooped them in with one swift movement and bolted out the door, leaving her secretary to gaze thoughtfully after her.

A couple of hours later on, she was enmeshed in the cut and thrust of the trial and Jo noticed resentfully that George was as fresh as a daisy with cool and perfect self control and, to Jo's intense annoyance, managed to chew up Jo's final defence witness in her cross-examination by picking on the holes that Jo's examination had left exposed. George felt on top of the world, having spent a lazy weekend making gentle love with Alice and generally making up after the shattering revelations about Becky on Friday night . Definitely, Alice was a superb woman to 'make up' with and to and didn't rush matters in that direction, George decided very smugly, looking like the cat that has gorged herself on the cream.

"In fact Mr Simpson," George concluded sarcastically, "I put it to you that when you claim to have witnessed my client's brother break into the house of the deceased through the front door, your description of the incident is flagrently self contradictory, vague to the point of nothingness considering your admission of the absence of street lighting at the time and date evidence, Mr Simpson, is not worth the air it is breathed upon."

"I must protest, My Lord, the defence barrister is attempting to badger and intimidate the witness," Jo shouted, red with anger as the bulkily built man wearing a cheap suit fidgeted uncomfortably under George's final stinging retort. "I request that this last comment is struck from the record."

"Mrs Mills, you know as well as I do that Mrs Channing is asking a perfectly proper question though it is straying in the direction of part of a closing speech. I shall allow the question."

"You're taking a personally vindictive attitude towards my client," burst out Jo as she saw her case slipping out of her hands.

"Mrs Mills, I have ruled on this point. Any further outbursts and you will be held in contempt," John pronounced sternly. He had been considering Jo's performance during this trial and wondered how come she was well below par, that she was deficient in her accustomed sharpness and lightning quick reasoning powers, causing her to overreact angrily. George, by contrast, had done her homework, mapped out the terrain of the trial, organised her arguments with tight precision and had kept cool and , he senses a personal dimension underlaying Jo's angry criticisms.

"I hold you in total contempt for the way you're behaving," muttered Jo. John pretended not to hear that last comment. George had been expected to grin at coming out on top in this debate but she started wondering if there was more to Jo's behaviour than her having an 'off day.'

"Is that your last witness, Mrs Mills? If so I shall call upon Mrs Channing to make her closing address."

After the accused had been taken down to the cell duly convicted, John retired to his chambers and immediately passed word to Jo Mills that he would like to see her in his chambers. Red with anger, Jo took up the offer. It might as well be now as later, she thought in more sense than one.

John lay back on his settee when he heard the rapidly clicking sounds heralding Jo's impending arrival and a peremptory rat tat on the door and there she was. Coope took one look and made a tactful exit. John waved to Jo to take her place in the armchair opposite as she always had done.

"I prefer to stand John. For what reason have you called me here?" came the tension-ridden reply. John picked up on her manner straightaway and opted to deal with straightforward business.

"I wanted to ask you why the tension in court these days? Something hasn't felt right from the start of this trial from the way that we are at each other's throats."

"I must apologise," Jo said in a tight tone of voice. "I must brush up on the formalities of court. Sometimes, it's too easy to make assumptions about those you know best and behave that way without thinking."

This made John sit up and take wasn't sure they were on the same wavelength. He decided to cut his way through any ambiguities.

"I'm not sure we're talking about the same thing. Sometimes you rub people up the wrong way. There's Nikki at the Howard League of Penal Reform not to say Helen. I had a quiet word with her and I know."

"All right. I put my foot in it and it's felt as if I've trodden on a man trap and can't get my foot free. There you are, I'm sorry," Jo said a second, she looked around dazedly to hear the implications of what she was saying.

"You know you need to apologise to Nikki and Helen. If you'd done so, you'd have told me," John cut back in level quiet tones. Damn the man, Jo felt. He knows me too well." Then there's another thing. You look as if you're burning the candle at both ends. I don't know about your private life as I increasingly see less and less of it but you look tired out and it shows in court. George ran rings round you and she has her own commitments whereas Tom and Mark are at university now."

The blue flash in Jo's eyes and a quiver in her outstretched right hand prompted John to consider that he was perhaps pressing her too far. He had the curious feeling that, without knowing it, he was really probing at Jo to reveal what was really on her mind. He also suspected what was about to happen.

"Give me a drink," Jo said abruptly and John waved to the side where, often enough, she had drunk his whisky. Jo veered abruptly to the bottles and glasses set out, poured a large measure of whisky, downed it in one gulp and turned to face John.

"There's something else I want to tell you, John. It's about our relationship. The more I've got to know you, the more I've got the feeling that we're headed nowhere. I want to take a new direction with my life and I've increasingly come to feel that while I value our friendship as fellow professionals and I respect you, the bond that once kept us close just isn't there anymore. I've been thinking about this for some time now. ...I want you to know that I think that you are a thoroughly admirable human being...we have to move our separate ways, emotionally speaking. I'm sorry, John but there it is."

A curious feeling of unreality came over John. This had never happened to him before where a woman unilaterally finished a relationship. His series of infidelities when he was with George had strained their marriage to the limits. Jo's return on the scene stemmed with wanting some form of comfort when her own husband was dying and his marriage finished very explosively. After Jo had become pregnant by John and he drove her to the abortion clinic, the emotional fallout caused both to back off. Since then, his one night stands were on his terms and Jo had only occasionally slept with him since then and, for some wierd reason, regretted it the next day. This was the first time he'd tried to do the decent thing with a woman and now this happened. All this flashed through John's mind like a kaleidoscope so only a second later, a couple of questions popped itself into his mind.

"Do I get a say in all this? You've obviously thought it out. It's a shame that I've been left out of the thinking processes," John said mildly, the words touching the wrong buttons with Jo.

"No you don't. You'd only put obstacles in the way," Jo said shortly, avoiding looking at John.

"Is there any other man in your life?"

"No. No man. I can assure you of that."

John's feelings of unreality deepened. This couldn't be happening and neither could he be sounding so reasonable and couldn't work out for the life of him what that signified of his past relationship with Jo, whether it hadn't sunk in yet or whether it spelled deliverance from this infernally eternal period of taking things slowly. He gathered his thoughts to assemble the facts.

"In recent times, the only person outside work I've heard you talk about was this old schoolfriend Mel."

"Goodbye John," Jo said rapidly as an instant look of panic flashed into her leant forward to kiss him on his cheek and in a swirl of air, the door was shut and she was gone.

John refilled Jo's glass, took a gulp from it and lay back on the sofa, apparently deep in thought. There was an utter stillness in the air that Coope didn't disturb as she tiptoed back into the room.

George was blazingly angry about the nonchalant way that Jo had dumped John and finally ran Jo to earth in their time honoured combat area, the locker room. They had the predictable verbal run in about John and about each other until they both ran out of steam. As George paused for breath, a thought struck her to be in a more conciliatory mood as, after all, Jo's opening crack about 'having done no more than George or Helen had done' had some degree of merit in it.

"So what about this Mel you're dating? I'm intrigued to hear about this woman who's captured your heart after all these years," George said with a slight smirk on her face.

"Well," Jo started to say and she couldn't resist a warm smile spreading across her face, even after her row with was dying to tell someone else about the new love in her life and the depths of her friendship with George hadn't been broken. After all, she knew they were both self-willed women and bound to clash from time to time. "I knew her from school when she tried to recruit me for her all female rock band. I played one gig with them and then we lost contact. We met again in the local tea shop when she moved to my village. She's this denim jeans and leather jacket rock chick, totally outrageous, good company and funny. I know now that she'd fancied me all along and started going round to her place to drink, play music and have fun. We ended up one evening making love and it's started from there. I suppose I've been overdoing it recently though the sex is fantastic. I never knew what I was missing." finished Jo.

"So does she play in a rock band for a living or does she have another form of livelihood?" George asked in deliberately moderated tones. She was longing to ask Jo one question but squashed that as obviously counter-productive, _Do I expect to read about her playing a gig at the Albert Hall and you playing by her side? _

Jo's mouth fell open. It was a question that had simply not occurred to her. All she knew was that when she went up to London to work hard as a barrister, Mel was readily and available when Jo had eagerly trotted up the untidy front path and appeared the other side of the open front door.

"I suppose my love life story will be circulated all round your friends at Chix, George?" Jo asked as she'd come down from her clouds and started to put two and two together.

"Believe me, I'm not out to blacken your name, Jo. You might be surprised that I regard you as a close friend. It's not as if we're competing for John's sexual favours these days. It's just that we've had a few arguments recently. You've told me just what's been behind your ratty behaviour at the AGM and everything else after that. It means that my lips aren't going to be sealed next time I see Nikki and Helen. I have no hidden agenda and I want to see you truly happy, that's all."

"But I am happy, blissfully happy. What do you mean?" Jo asked, totally puzzled.

George didn't answer her question.


	36. Chapter 36

**Scene Thirty-Six**

John couldn't recall afterwards how he came to be lying on his bed back in his bedroom at his digs on Monday night. A bottle of scotch which he'd somehow acquired along the way was on his bedside table and judging by the level, he'd made fair inroads on the contents. All he knew was that he found himself in the curious state of mind of something profound and vital being disconnected from himself and which made him feel dangerously without anchor and it was only partially due to the alcohol. He was here on his own beneath the bare lightbulb overhead which wasn't really constrained by the shade. He wanted to be alone. If he couldn't work his way through this present crisis, who could? He would only talk to friends, male or female, when he was ready for them. In the meantime, harsh electric light shone down on him while he strove to make sense of his life.

Had he striven to improve his ways with women because he wanted to, because his old ways pushed him into a hole where he was isolated and alone? He'd gone round to Nikki and Helen's flat a couple of times and they'd gently and kindly tapped him in the right direction. He smiled warmly at the memory and the strangely contrasting memory of chivalrously defending them by knocking seven bells out of their bitter enemy Jim Fenner. He smiled nostalgically at past battles with the establishment which had steered him into sustaining relationships with his sensitive and intelligent lesbian friends . He felt supported by them and there was a mutual admiration society, particularly with Nikki.

His despairing spirits fastened on his memories of Nikki as a drowning man seizes upon a lifeline. He recalled his earliest memories of her reappeal to wipe clean her prison record and how bravely she'd stood up to the most searching cross examination over every detail of how she took the life of D C Gossard. Still more, he fondly recalled how stoutly she had backed him up against the forces of reaction when the hearing didn't go their way. That typified their extraordinary similarity in fighting injustice, in caring for their fellow human beings, in striving to do the right thing. What suddenly hit him was the way she was blessed with her union with Helen, another caring woman while every relationship he'd sought had slipped through his fingers like fine sand. Nevertheless, he stumbled on in his mind, he'd done his best in associating with the very kind-hearted strong women who were her friends and he'd done his best to be at his best. In return, they respected, even possibly admired the good deeds that he'd done. They'd even been part of the crowd along with Trisha and Sally-Anne who had supported him and his fellow judges when they'd gone on strike against plans by Haughton to bring in a bill to restrict the powers of judges.

Tears started to form in John's eyes as he remembered how they'd fought so hard together in their battles with unjust tyranny and how they'd stuck together. They started to trickle down his cheeks when he considered that now they'd all gained a measure of success and peace, everything had somehow fallen apart, to him most of his spirits plunged and his only recourse was to pour himself a measure of stotch and pray that his spirits would revive. He knew that he must be in a desperate state to play Russian roulette with alcohol but this was his last recourse.

As the spirits percolated through his system,. it dawned on him that Nikki and her friends had been very quietly, very softly been persuading him by force of their personal example that he should reach out towards the sort of permanent relationship that they possessed. It might have been this which had persuaded him to be so patient in the face of Jo's clearly ambivalent behaviour, to never quite surrender her defences after Helen's trial. He had been given cause to hope as she seemed to be more receptive, better able to listen just as he had striven to do along the line, Jo had ended up being attracted to this schoolfriend of hers and never a word to him about hurt John the deepest was the force of this betrayal and that all his well meaning efforts were all in vain.

So where did that leave him, John asked the Heavens above him? Should he pin possibly vain hopes that Jo might eventually come back to him? Ought he go back to his old philandering ways or should he seek pastures anew? It was when the bare white ceiling and lampshade started spinning round over his head that flashes of interesting conversations with Kristine came briefly into his mind. Perhaps that was the answer, he thought, as he struggled to wrap the bedclothes around him, click off the light and seek the blessed oblivion of the night.

George's head was spinning around with unresolved questions after confronting Jo, finding out about her new lover and instinctively stopping dead rather than pursuing the matter further. She hadn't applied modes of reaction that she was accustomed to from the Chix millieux, that Jo was finding her true sexuality at last, that she and Mel would ride off hand in hand into the golden sunset and all would end happily after. Why she didn't do so was beyond her understanding except that loud alarm bells were ringing in her head. She definitely wanted a second opinion on the matter and, as luck would have had it, she was crossing the road opposite the Old Bailey and she spied Nikki's distinctive profile. George's carrying voice elicited a welcoming grin and wave of her hand.

"I'm surprised to see you revisiting the scene of your famous victories Nikki,"George said with a broad grin after exchanging a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Not quite, George. I've been hunting down a reference book but I've messed up the directions for the library so I want to find somewhere to take the weight off my feet."

"Do you fancy lunch with me? Besides, there's something that's come up about mutual friends of ours and I value your advice."

Nikki followed George to the pub across the road from the Old Bailey. It was where they'd all been during Helen's trial when John had gone out of his way to socialise with them and buoy up their spirits. She smiled nostalgically when she thought of the guy

"So how's the pregnancy going on?" George asked sociably, having been there before many years ago.

"It's great- so far. I went through a bit of a stage of treating Helen like a piece of Dresden porcelain but Helen sorted my ideas out pretty quickly. She's through the morning sickness phase and she's generally blooming and is wearing a range of fetching maternity dresses. We know that we want this baby like anything but not at the expense of seeing Helen only as a baby carrier and that we both have sexual needs. She's worrying a bit about not getting her figure back after the baby's born but we talk to each other. As you understand, I could have gone through this and not Helen but she was pushing for it so what could I say?"

"It all sounds perfectly normal," George replied warmly in response to Nikki's lively chatter. "I was hardly the most maternal type but don't hesitate to talk to me if anything's bothering you."

They chattered away in a friendly fashion but George's manner got more tense as they went on. Her body language became more nervy and abrupt until finally she cut to the chase.

"There's another reason why I wanted to talk and that's because I've had a row with Jo."

"You as well George?" queried Nikki with a mixture of concern for George and relief that they weren't the only ones to row with Jo. "Helen and I were beginning to think that perhaps we'd been a bit hard on Jo at that conference." George waved away her doubts with an impatient gesture as she knew better.

"There's more to this than meets the eye. The simple facts are that she's broken things off with John and taken up with this old schoolfriend of hers. This has all been brewing up for some time, way before the conference."

For once, Nikki was slow off the mark. Her mouth opened but no words came and George knew at once that the penny hadn't dropped and it was all down to Nikki's fixed conception of Jo as straight.

"I mean they're lovers. Jo's gay, or at least she thinks she is," continued George loudly, safe to talk openly in the cuckoon of loud voices from the lunchtime crowd. Nikki's ears pricked up at the ambiguities in George's caustic retort and just where she needed their help.

"This is a difficult one, George." Nikki said at last. "I've been on the lesbian scene for as long as anyone and I've come across women coming out who were also extricating themselves from straight relationships. Helen was a case in point if you must know. Normally sympathies go out to the women and the guys get seen as an obstacle to women finding their true needs. The only reservation I have is if the object of love is a destructive headcase..."

"Like Becky Elliott, for instance," George said with a shudder and continued with intense force of feeling. "I can't thank my good fortune enough that Alice has finally got that woman out of her system and we are back to a loving, harmonious relationship with no snake in the grass to ruin our was down to John."

"...in which case the prospective lesbian shouldn't touch that woman with a bargepole. The trouble is," continued Nikki meditatively as she got into her stride , "we know the guy and we're very fond of him. Our loyalties are divided but we incline to his side and that's never happened to me in my life, to sympathise with the guy. After Helen's trial when we were all together, we were all rooting for Jo to patch up her differences with the judge. In fact, the two of us and Helen pushed them in that very direction."

"Don't I know it,"agreed George gloomily," and that's where I'm stuck." She reached out for a cigarette and passed one to Nikki who politely declined.

"No thanks George. When the baby's born, I foresee my smoking will be knocked on the head so I'd better get used to it. There's just one question. Is Jo really a lesbian?"

"How should I know, darling? At least I can't imagine it but who would have suspected me when I came out?" laughed George which drew a wry smile from Nikki.

"The thing I don't get is that both you and Jo have been John's lovers and he's cheated on you both. You seem to have put that past resentment past you and Jo hasn't. How come?" pursued Nikki.

"I first knew John when I was at university and he was the personification of the rakish, dashing bad man with lots of charm. Jo was John's pupilmaster when he was teaching law as a steadier occupation than schepping all over the country as a practising barrister. Unlike me, she hero worshipped John as a shining knight in armour standing up for justice and when she found out he had feet of clay in his personal life, she took it harder than I did. I was always the 'Ice Maiden' - that's Charlie's line which she's grown out of- while Jo was always the good woman. Now she's carrying on with this rock chick and looking as if she's burning the candle at both ends. It looks as if she's suddenly becoming bad."

"No one's seen them together, that's the can explain a lot," mused Nikki as she capped George's discourse. A wide thankful smile spread across George's face as Nikki shifted the last leftover piece of this jigsaw into position. They went on to chatter away before business drew them elsewhere.

For want of anything better, John went to the bar which Sir Ian sometimes frequented. It wasn't because he was greatly attached to the place but this was the sort of place where things might happen. Who knows what might walk through the door and, as luck would have it, the elegantly groomed figure of Francesca Rochester came into the subdued surroundings. Her golden hair that fell over her shoulders, her figure hugging dress that ended discreetly above her knees certainly attracted the eye and John went into automatic mode of thinking in turning on his charm.

"Why hello John, it's lovely to see you once again,"Francesca said. "I thought at one point that you'd have settled down in happy domesticity but rumour has it otherwise."

"Whatever the rumours are, I ought to say that I am a reporter from the News of the World and get them published," John said in his silkiest style. "How's Ian these days?"

"Still happily divorced. At least I am but he isn't but then again, the man is so wrapped up in his work that he is incapable of happiness," Francesca said in her most seductive tones.

At the back of John's mind, an iron bell tolled a melancholy note. This woman's sketch of Sir Ian's endless strivings while warm human relationships slipped through his fingers wasn't so different from his own self-portrait.

"As it happens, I've been thinking of you. I've often wondered what's been happening to you. Romantic nonsense you might think but none the less real for all that. Of course, there is no substitute for the real thing," her lightly tinkling voice pursued while she turned on all her charms.

This was it, the sexual proposition right there in front of him. It would be so easy for him to reply in like mind and they would be off and away to Francesca's elegant flat. For a reason he couldn't explain, he chose a different tack.

"I've been engaged in sustained studies over the last year or so in facing up to reality," John said without a trace of artifice in his voice. "I made friends with an attractive and highly intelligent caring lesbian couple and their equally talented friends and in their kind-hearted way, have tried to get me to see the error of my ways. The trouble is that my existing relationships haven't all kept pace with me, Jo Mills in particular."

The light went out of Francesca's eyes. This man was distinctly odd, suspect and she wanted no part of him. There were plenty of sleekly suited single men around London, perhaps not so much of a good lay as John, but more of what she was looking was in the mood for pleasurable sex, no commitments, no hearts and roses and a fair exchange on both sides.

"Too bad I have to rush off, John. I have a party to get ready for. Another time, darling."

With a waft of expensive perfume, she wandered into the door, only to pass by Sir Ian who glared daggers at John and then her. She could not give a damn about either man.

At this point, John picked up his mobile and phoned Kristine.

Alice and George were curled up around each other on the sofa, their breath returning to normal after tenderly making love. After their lives had returned to normal, they were if anything more eager to fling their clothes off and pleasure each other. George's white shirt was unbuttoned, her white bra was unclasped while Alice's black trousers were unzipped as far as they would lights were turned down low and the colours in the room warm and comforting. The gas fire cast a lovely warm light and made the room feel warm and snug.

"Another lesbian might get jealous and insecure to hear you talk about your ex-husband and worry on his behalf but I don't," Alice murmured, gesturing her point with her fingers which were delicately stroking George's centre and inducing a delicious minor spasm.

"And why's that?" murmured George, her articulation blurred by her lips resting against Alice's nipple.

"Because John's reputation with women may be as bad as has been made out but I believe he is honourable. I gather that Nikki and Helen have taken him in 's done so much for all the friends we know and deserves better. There's just one thing about Jo that you and Nikki may have missed."

"And what's that?" murmured George, deliberately making sure her lover didn't go totally off the boil.

"Jo and Mel have some similarities with me and Becky as we were with some differences. Becky was and is a headcase with an ability to pull strings on me but I was trying to make her good. I sense that Mel is more together than Becky but appeals to Jo to be the naughty schoolgirl she never was, that Jo suddenly feels that she's missed out on the wicked pleasurable things in sounds perverse but there might be something in it. There's another thing. Why does Jo look so wrecked when our sex life is healthy enough but we can be bright enough in the morning?"

"Alice, you're a marvel,"exclaimed George. "You're absolutely right. I'll work on that in the morning but right now, I don't think that once is enough, darling and I'm far too impatient to wait till we get to bed."

George crushed Alice's lips with hers and the two women rolled off the settee and onto the floor. They rapidly shed what was left of their clothes and they started to move like one to the rhythm of their bodies.


	37. Chapter 37

**Scene Thirty-Seven **

"Kristine, it's John here. I trust that you remember me from that very excellent Howard League for Penal Reform AGM. I thought it was a bit rude of me not to have phoned you before now."

John's attempt to be suave and debonair didn't fool Kristine one bit. She had wondered why this very suave sounding older man hadn't contacted her straight after their very animated conversation at the end of the conference. It was against her principles to be too easy a conquest but this time gap was going to the other extreme. When she picked out a trace of desperation in his voice, she was certain that one of life's traumas must have overtaken him and he was just climbing out the other 'd had her moments in the past when she was depressed, to retreat into her shell so she knew the signs.

"I was right in the middle of some very tedious work which isn't coming out right so I'm very willing to be distracted," Kristine said in bantering tones, leaving a deliberate pause before continuing in a gentler vein, "especially in hearing your voice down the phone. We really must carry on where we left off."

"I'd be more than willing to meet you wherever and whenever suits you," John said smoothly, not quite concealing his desperation for human contact."The sooner the better if that's all right."

"John, is everything all right?" Kristine replied, a sense of real concern which she couldn't help but let slip into her voice.

"You've guessed my feelings, Kristine," John said a slight tremor in his voice that was audible to him. It embarrassed him but not as much as he expected.

"Unfortunately, I really have got a lot of work stacked up to the ceiling which I've let slide which is a bad habit of mine. That and too many teaching classes won't make me the best company in the next few days and I suspect you need that. Perhaps you could come round to my place and I'll cook for you. Would this Saturday be all right?"

"That's fine by me," John said in that stoical tone of voice which rang loud alarm bells in her ears.

"I know you would want to see me sooner or later but that doesn't stop us talking for the moment," Kristine said very gently. John was willing to give anything for this electronic lifeline and he continued talking about matters which, afterwards, he couldn't recall for the life of him.

The following day, Kristine clicked off her computer in her overcrowded room at the University of London having decided on the vital audio book she needed for her research plus the latest publication by Val McDermid in the Tony Hill series. The local Waterstones round the corner hadn't got either it in stock so she opted for her favourite bookshop , Foyles, that untidy rabbit warren of a ancient book shop in Charing Cross Road. It was in an old fashioned area of London, once home to Tin Pan Alley. Jules knew exactly where his mistress wanted to go so he led on ahead and she strode on behind in the direction of Russell Square underground station Down a flight of steps from the road, the bowels of the small tube station focussed attention on the ticket barriers and the attendant on hand with the swing doors ready to deal with what he perceived as problem situations. Kristine sighed with exasperation for the umpteenth time as some officious ticket collector saw her as some helpless creature to be assisted through the barrier and generally condescended to. All she really wanted to be was some anonymous person going on the underground just like any other person. Once she had got through the barrier, Jules led her through the sequence of steps and tunnels where her sharp ears could perfectly attune herself to the whooshing sound of the train coming onto the platform, into the compartment. While some sighted person aimlessly wondered why in hell the automated voice told passengers the name of the next station they were approaching when there were maps on display, Kristine knew that this voice was a lifeline to her independence. She wondered why sighted people needed to keep referring to maps when she had the whole network lodged inside her mind and her spatial awareness knew exactly where she was in the great scheme of things.

Sure enough, she arrived at her destination where the friendly assistant dealt with a favourite customer who had the knack of knowing when an obscure publication arrived and whose dog was bright, alert and who mopped up fuss and attention like an ever absorbant sponge. They made quite a talking point in conversation and the regular clientele smiled at the woman who obviously appreciated good books in the age of the cheap glossy magazine.

Friday night at Chix was the first in the weekend where the pulsing atmosphere gradually built up from quiet beginnings. Trisha and Sally Anne were used to comfortably riding out that groove and interlocking their partnership in running the show and finding time to socialise as well. That crackle of anticipation and animated conversations overlaying the rhythmic sounds and pulsing lights had to be built up from women choosing their outfits for the evening, for making themselves most attractive to the eye, for themselves first and , the incipient sense of pleasures to come had to contend with more mundane details.

"That's funny," Karen muttered under her breath as she finished applying her lipstick carefully while looking in the mirror. "I could have sworn the spare key was in the pot on the mantlepiece." Getting made up ready to hit the dance floor at Chix after coming off a long shift at St Mary's took a lot of shifting from one task to another, besides of course greeting her beloved after her gruelling day of office politics and writing deadlines.

"Occupational hazard, darling," laughed Beth as she teased her hair into its final perfect shape. "You'll never really get your years of having been a prison officer finally out of your system ."

"You swine,"Karen retorted, sticking her tongue out at her partner's mischievously provocative deployment of a sharp home truth. "I've always left a key there wherever I've lived. You never know when you need one."

"Too late to worry right 'd better get moving or we'll be late for our friends."

Karen gave up resuming her distracted search amongst the bits and pieces on the mantlepiece and the long legged vision of perfection that was her lover caught her eye. Beth always brought out interestingly tingling sensations within her and a heightened sense of their immediate pleasures.

"Nicola, you did promise us months ago that you wouldn't be too stupidly proud not to ask for advice about pregnancy or at least Helen did. So you can't reject my advice from with experience of bringing both you and John into the world to be careful in jigging around at that club of yours," persisted Nikki's mother on the phone with smug certainty that she was on the winning end of the argument. Nikki groaned under her breath at the way her mother's wits were sharpening up as she got older. It was all her dad's fault, she reasoned. She'd always regretted how colourless her mother was as an archetypal gin and bridge Navy wife but, these days, she was changing for the better. "You don't want Helen to have a miscarriage. We know how your hearts are set on having a baby and come to think of that, so are ours."

"All right, mum," groaned Nikki under her breath while registering her mother's genuine tender concern. "Let's do a deal. We'll go and see our friends at Chix but we'll socialise and take it easy. Promise."

"And another thing," teased Nikki's mother silently acknowledging the done deal. "You'll have to stop smoking very soon. No sneaking into the back garden and pretending an interest in the garden like you did at 'll have a baby to think of, you know."

"I should have seen that one coming mum," retorted Nikki ruefully.

"Right from the moment you told us the good news," came the maddenly serene reply. "You two enjoy yourselves but do it the right way."

Nikki and Helen finally got themselves ready to go down to Chix, thinking that they'd been neglecting their friends though they'd weren't set to dance the night away as they'd done in the past, acknowledging the wisdom of the advice about too much of that kind of strenuous activity. A familiar feeling of excitement ran through them as for one night they didn't have to think about their futures but enjoy the here and now.

The lights and the feel of the VIP lounge was perfectly normal and the classily dressed ladies were a sight to behold but the atmosphere wasn't right for what it should be. The revelation that one of their favourite barristers, Jo Mills, had parted company with their definitely favourite judge to take up with another woman had a peculiar effect on their sensibilities. They reached out to unlock the puzzle with their normal set of perceptions but the key didn't fit comfortably or not at all. It was a call to face uncomfortable realities.

"We've always felt that a woman who finally realises what her true sexuality is the one to support. Former boyfriends are expendable," pronounced Trisha with instant certainty. "In Jo Mills' case the judge is just another guy even if he is a cut among most and he's done us a few favours. That's partly what this club was built on."

"I'm not so sure," reasoned Nikki, trying to feel her way. "Helen was a case that makes your point. She broke up with her fiancee who was a minor public school smoothie. All my sympathies were with Helen whose breakup was right in the open when she was having a tough time at work. His feelings certainly weren't at the top of my list..."

"I understand darling," Helen said gently pressing her partner's hand to say that recalling those painful memories was all right by her. "God that feels like a lifetime ago."

"The judge is a whole different kettle of fish," continued Nikki. "For a start, he's crashed on our sofa a couple of times and we've had a heart to heart with him, same as if any of us have done the same. I suspect that the guy is a womaniser and his private life isn't up to the knight in shining armour that I really know him to be. For the first time in my life, I can see it from the guy's point of view. I don't think the emotional fallout is really much different that if a woman who thinks she's in a comfortable relationship gets cheated on by another woman."

"That's all very idealistic of you,Nikki," broke in Trisha impatiently, "but there's no nice way a woman can come out if she has to dump some guy to get there. It's different if you've never been straight in your life. The situations don't compare."

The others mulled things over as Nikki and Trisha locked horns. Karen reflected on the fact that she was single, unemployed and just liberated from the worst nightmare of her life when she found her beloved, Beth who was unattached at that point as was Alice when she first laid eyes on George. The fair haired barrister had dumped that loathsome Neil Haughton because of her own changing boundaries that involved questioning her own morality and sexuality. Trisha and Sally Anne were drawn together by a process that didn't hurt anyone else's feelings while Nikki and Helen so much looked as they were born to live together that any other possibilities were unimaginable. A one time straight Helen was a patent absurdity and a sheer waste of the love and passion that she felt for Nikki whose dedication was shown by the baby they were expecting.

"What if Jo Mills wanted to come here with her partner?" Nikki put in nervously. She was feeling under the same pressure that she knew Trisha was feeling. She knew that her old friend could get equally dogmatic as her where an inner uncertainty was gnawing at her. "I'm thinking that I ought to make my peace with her," she admitted.

"Peace with honour on both sides. None of us have to take sides between Jo and the judge," put in Helen, whose sense of the future was becoming stronger by the day. She knew that it wouldn't be long before the baby within her would start to kick out at her, judging by the ingeniously combined strain of heredity and determinity that went into the creation. "Don't forget, Nikki and I owe a lot to both of them. We ought to think of what we don't know. We don't know what's been going down with Jo and we won't go far wrong with the judge if we play fair by both of them."

"Incidentally, why do you and Helen call him the judge?" asked Sally inquisitively.

"Er, that's a good question. I suppose it is a mark of respect. Overfamiliarity doesn't seem right. I suppose it's my father coming out in me," Nikki replied with really a cute sense of embarrassment.

"Sometimes men can't be quite that easy to shed," Karen said gloomily, the train of thought about the judge having sparked off her own remaining vulnerability. "My son Ross is somewhere out there dossing around, wasting all the effort I put into bringing him up, helping him with his homework, racing up to the school for a parent's evening off a long shift minus his father who couldn't give a shit, being proud of him the day I sent him off to university and only turning up if he can scrounge something off me. I'm not going to let him back into my life's and Beth's until he finally grows up. I can't do it for him."

George wasn't slow to sense the undertone of parental guilt at the way Karen's son had turned out despite her outward vehement contempt for him. She'd always felt that she was not the maternal sort and felt her own guilt at the way John and Charlie had bonded from the word go which was a guilty unspoken element as to why her marriage to John had broken John for his infidelities had once been a convenient self-protection but in since living with Alice, she had got to know better. Relationships between her and Charlie had improved out of all recognition and her daughter had a wide eyed admiration for the very attractive Alice who she saw had humanised her mother.

"I ought to know how you feel but I don't," said George slowly and delicately. "I was always very unmaternal. Dealing with small demanding offspring and changing nappies really wasn't my cup of tea. I have to admit that despite my past namecalling John as the archetypal 'trendy parent and permissive liberal', he really did a good job in bringing up Charlie who I only see infrequently as she's caught up in her own world as she has every right to be.I admire his dedication in dealing with Charlie's well meaning but foolish escapades in animal right movements."

Some of the other women felt a little uncomfortable at all the talk of offspring. When they had interaction with their families and sat in on discussions amongst straight women on the woes of bringing up children, they were overcome by the sentiment of please can someone change the stuck record and fast. Alice coloured at hearing sides of her friends' existence that she had never come across. She had found it easy enough in bonding with Charlie who was a very presentable well brought up young woman while the family crises in her professional duties existed in another dimension- until Mrs Elliott's destructive scheming brought so much professional and personal distress to her and George.

"I ought to remember that ex-partners can be left behind if both of you want it."

"Alice, we know that you're slated for giving evidence in that wounding case you got dragged into,"Sally-Anne said warm-heartedly. She felt better about herself in having something to contribute in an area she felt surer about.. "You and George don't have to deal with this one on your own you know."

Trisha smiled fondly on her partner for saying precisely the right thing and locked fingers with Sally's hand affectionately.

"Never mind,"Helen said with a sense of bright but steely determination . "You will, of course, see a lot of our child for many, many years to come. You really will learn to love babies, I assure you especially as it is ours."

Instantly, the room lightened as they laughed with appreciation and amusement at themselves. The chill and uncertainty that had radiated out into the room was abolished and the sweetly seductive rhythms of Texas playing "When we are together" wafted back into the room. Nikki's hand reached out for Helen's as this was one of the songs that had played that day when Helen had plucked up her courage to enter the room of swaying sisterhood in love with each other just like George and then Karen had done after them. They were together as indeed they always would be.

.


	38. Chapter 38

**Scene Thirty-Eight**

The conference on Friday night prompted Nikki and Helen to unpick one strand of the emotional tangle that could easily be dealt with, making their peace with morning, Nikki had the day off work and made the conscious effort to get off the treadmill of work

"So which of us were more 'in your face' to Jo?" Nikki said, half talking to herself as she popped her jeans on. "I guess that , as per usual, it must have been me. It's just as well I never tried to get a job in the diplomatic service. Even I wouldn't go for a pinstripe suit and white shirt and would be too dykeish even for me."

Helen laughed at Nikki's stream of witticisms, her green eyes glinting and the dirty tone of her laugh. Right then, she was dressed in a very decorous smock that did not conceal the growing signs of her pregnancy. Nikki couldn't resist the temptation to dart over and feel the growing shape of her lover's pregnancy. The process seemed very mystical to her partly for all her earlier denial of going down the mothers and babies route as her very bland and boring sister in law had gone, Jill Wade with her two sons as equally offensive as her brother was from her infrequent contact with them had revealed.

"So that's what I am these days, a baby producer?" Helen teased, knowing very well that Nikki went out of her way not to think that way.

"I haven't come across any baby producers who have the ingenuity to go down on me the way you do. You haven't lost the touch," Nikki said, looking like a naughty schoolgirl.

"I wouldn't want to,"Helen said in the tone of voice that made the dark haired woman flutter inside. Her soulful eyes ate up up the delicious sight of Nikki wearing a white lacy bra, having very conveniently forgotten to put on her top."Come here, sweetheart, I haven't forgotten you."

"We will be able to, you know, stay as we are," Nikki said in uncertain tones into her lover's neck as they clasped each other tight, though judiciously got the sense of what her lover was trying to say.

"I get the feeling that you're worrying about babies crying in the night, teething troubles, an insatiable child that will draw all our attention away from each other. Is that it, darling?"

Nikki mutely worried. Somehow, she realised that worrying about this tactful intervention with Jo was displacing some of her own residual worries that she hadn't placed her hands either side of Nikki's head and looked her in the eye as she spoke slowly and clearly.

"I don't want us to become devoted parents and end up with an acute attack of lesbian bed death, getting frustrated and taking it out on each other and living miserably ever after. From what I remember of my parent's marriage, that's what happened in a straight relationship and I want to avoid that like the won't be able to make love when we want to but we'll just have to organise ourselves a bit better. Why be a lesbian if we can't enjoy ourselves?"

An hour later when the two women's breathing had returned to normal and Nikki started looking for her jeans again the other side of her lover's naked breasts, the thought crossed her mind that she'd better phone Jo up. The decision and what she was going to say came from off the top of her tongue. Dead easy when she put her mind to it.

At eleven o clock, they strolled down the road, heading for Jo's office. The last time they'd been there before was when they, together with Claire Walker had first laid plans for Nikki's reappeal nearly two years ago. Such a wealth of experiences had rushed by them both since those early days. They strolled up to the inconspicuous

brass plate on the solid wood door and politely gave their name to the receptionist. As they glanced round the office, memories started to come back to them and they remembered their first impression of Jo Mills wearing a simple two-piece suit, her intense blue eyes and her friendly smile which had both impressed and relaxed them. She had seemed Olympian in her strength at that time and throughout court cases she'd conducted and now they'd had a standup row with her, like any other human being they'd known. Both women were out for 'peace with honour', not the least theirs. Together, they climbed the stairs to her office, politely knocked at the door and entered. This time, the table at which they sat seemed to separate them from Jo whose manner was non-committal and whose expression was a blank facade.

"So what can I do for you two?" came the formal greeting which revealed nothing. Instantly, Nikki and Helen knew that this was the first deal of the cards in a verbal poker game but who was going to deal first? Finally, Nikki spoke in pleasant yet forceful tones..

"OK, Jo, we'll come straight to the point. We owe you a lot for what you've done for us in court but that doesn't mean you're immune from criticism any more than we are. Helen and I had a verbal set to with you at the Howard League AGM and we wanted to clear the air between us as there's unfinished see where we're coming from?"

"We want to see justice- on all sides," added Helen, her follow up contribution making Jo blink as it rang loud bells in her sensitivities.

"It was you, Nikki who started the argument by flying off the handle in response to a harmless joke. I don't see why I should be ganged up on," Jo said abruptly, her face tense, her reaction striking Helen as wierd. In all the months she'd been carrying Nikki's child, she had the right to be all calm one minute making tea and the next minute throwing the teapot against the wall because it's not brewing quickly enough.

"Let's get a few things straight," cut back Nikki. "Don't quote me on this but you know and I know that the guy who chaired that AGM is a pompous egomaniac, someone who is a cross to bear for my boss and good mate of mine, Paul Williams who took your group. At the same time, I won't take shit from anyone who badmouths whoever or whatever gains my loyalty, even from you. I owe the Howard League bigtime for taking me on and giving me the job of my dreams so I found your badly thought remark hard to deal the same time, I admit I flew off the handle and overreacted. That's not unknown for me."

"So it's six of one and a half dozen of the other and we ought to all hold our hands up and admit it," interjected Helen at just the right moment."

"I suppose you've heard about me and John breaking up. Word gets round quickly, doesn't it,"

"Don't even dare to drag in your split with the judge and suggest that's at the back of us trying to sort out our own separate argument with you. That's entirely unworthy and I'd have expected better of you than that," Helen retorted in hard tones, a steely glint in her eyes.

Jo flinched at the determined way that these two women weren't giving an inch and were coming back hard at 'd seen them in action on the witness stand but this personal setting discomforted her. Nikki stole the opportunity Jo could have deployed to rebut their case

"We don't want to grind you into the mire, we want is for us to be straight with each other. That's not much to ask, is it," Nikki said calmly and with clear certainty.

Jo's thoughts were all over the place and she'd got it fixed in her mind that these two women's disapproval of her split with John underlay their criticism of her. She started to laugh unaccountably while Nikki and Helen patiently waited for this stress induced reaction to pass. Sooner or later, Jo would become real with her. Embarrassment finally did the trick and she finally lapsed into silence, her eyes downcast. As the two women the other side of the table made no move, Jo grudgingly masde the opening gambit.

"All right, I hear you. This has gone far enough and there's little point in continuing this argument. I'm sorry for my tactless words if that helps."

"We're sorry too Jo," Helen said with a winning smile. "We really should be on the same side."

This only discomforted Jo because of her still crossed lines of thinking so she made polite conversation with the two women. Finally, she made the ready excuse of having work to deal with which had the merit of being the at the very end, Jo impulsively shook hands with Helen, then Nikki. They sensed that, despite the situation, Jo couldn't help respecting and liking them. It was enough for them to know that.

Jo Mills wasn't the only one under pressure right now. It was Monday December 1st, the run up to Christmas when Sir Ian was feeling stresses and strains in life that he couldn't begin to deal with. Up till now, that tightly stressed structure had had constituted Sir Ian's constrained mind had committed him to plough the same furrow he'd followed all his life. He had considered that self-doubt was the enemy and it wasn't in his nature to consider alternatives, having invested so much of himself in self advancement.

He'd always prided himself in being a tidy-minded man, everything being in its rightful place and in strict order but in his unguarded moments, he couldn't help wondering if there were times when demands on his life weren't becoming unduly onerous. Of course, he crushed down each thought as traitorous, that he was being damned disloyal to everything that had been invested into his upbringing. He was aware, of course, that the weight of concerns that he was having to shoulder had imperceptibly increased, bit by bit, as he rose in his profession but this was a challenge that must be faced, just another one in a line to which he'd always felt equal. He had to succeed as he knew very well that those who had climbed the dizzying heights of success had only to put one foot wrong and they were plunged into the uttermost depths of failure. He'd seen it before and he had spared them no sympathy. It was the rules of the game- they'd obviously shown weakness of character and not enough willpower.

Over the past months, he had noticed that ,increasingly he felt compelled to ensure that everything was in order, even to the point of walking back the ten yards or so to his car, trying the door lock to make sure that he'd locked his car. The rational fact that it stood in the underground car park of the LCD headquarters didn't allay this compulsion. Only then was he reassured that everything in that part of his existence was safe and secure as he wanted it to be. He had become ever more zealous to ensure that those who worked for him was actually doing as they were supposed to do and he had born down on them with more than his usual harshness. Come what may, his department simply must, must became increasingly impossible for him to accept the most minor mishap, the slightest deviation from policy. The person that was closest to him in these tense times was the ever stolid and dogmatic functionary, Lawrence James. He remained the most zealous upholder of Sir Ian's thoughts, the most faithful recounter of His Master's Voice around the LCD, the picker of brains of more talented but more junior functionaries and a useful and dependable Mr Fixit of his area of domination that Deed hadn't challenged. There were moments when there was a real intimacy of ideas that flowed between them, allowing of course that Sir Ian was the leader and Lawrence James the subordinate.

A month ago, he'd once impulsively taken the afternoon off work, walking away from his strictly circumscribed route that he'd followed every day. His life took him from home to office, doing the rounds of various government departments, visiting the Court of Appeal, various judge's chambers, to meetings of top civil servants at 10 Downing Street headed by the Permanent Secretary, finally occasionally finishing off at the bar round the corner after work where he'd had a distasteful encounter with his very estranged ex-wife Francesca. He had walked aimlessly around the streets of London until he'd dropped into a coffee bar and started to observe the world around him. He'd been served a cup of coffee at the counter and took it to a small table right at the very back of the restaurant so that he could watch the world around him in a detached kind of way. The middle aged woman took his eye who sitting on her own, her large cup of coffee gradually cooling as she stared into the distance. Somehow, he sensed from the expression on her face that she was as weary of her existence as he was of his, though he'd never cared to put it that way before.

Suddenly, a tumult of conversation broke out, as a crowd seemed to invade the restaurant from the inner recesses of his subconscious. First Ms Wade, then Ms Stewart and after that, Deed of all people and then George Channing were mocking , this respectable woman, while other dangerous women, looking just like Francesca, came creeping in from the sidelines. To make it worse, all sorts of mad scrambled conversations were thrown in about that wretched hit and run driver trial of that prison officer. Finally, he saw another dark haired woman enter the restaurant and blatently, indecently kiss a fair haired woman in full view of everyone. He couldn't help thinking that this was the sort of thing Francesca might do just to antagonise him. Just before they swept out of the cafe, it struck him how Deed had such a sense of rapport with all these women, that they looked as if they were off to some party and, once again, he was staying at home, all alone. Only now did he start to realise that not one of them had the faintest idea of his existence. He was condemned to some kind of endless shadow existence and he had no power to change his destiny. The only alternative was some kind of terrible madness of which he could make no sense. This unutterably vivid bleak insight into his situation set him off running back to the security of what he was familiar with. He had to keep a stiff upper lip and grin and bear it.

While he was trying his best to stick it out, only now was he realising that all his good works over the years was starting to be undone. Already, he was getting the sense that he was being marginalised at the meetings of department heads, chaired by the very magisterial Permanent Secretary. The loud and overweight Sir Percy Thrower, Permanent Secretary of the Home Secretary was able to bask in the spotlight with his tough talking style while the namby pamby legal nicety image of the LCD was seen to be weak and inneffective while strong-minded judges steamrollered all over him. Discussions amongst departmental heads were becoming uncomfortable affairs and he was increasingly relegated to the sidelines, the one safe place where he could safely exist these days however humiliating the position.

Peter Jenkins informed him of the dreadful news of the Howard League of Penal Reform was a colossal disaster as he was certain that word had got back through circuitous means to the Cabinet Secretary that Andrew McCully's speech had been thoroughly subverted by Deed and all manner of dangerous thinking had been allowed to be debated. He knew above all else the hothouse atmosphere of gossip amongst the elite that once stories started circulating they spread amongst everyone of importance.

The time spent in the run up to the next meeting of departmental heads was torture to Sir Ian. He was getting the feeling that everyone he met knew about his latest fiasco by the undertone in their voices, the way they smiled too quickly. He felt increasingly less able to know where he stood with his peers and his rages against his subordinates felt less like him stamping his sense of authority on them than merely venting his spleen. He started to perceive the way their heads settled deeper into their shoulders, their faces remained blank and inexpressive. His sense of unreality, that need to frantically check things was gathering pace and his in tray was piling up with uncleared work, much to Lawrence James' hidden annoyance. He could swear that the man was starting to subtly patronise him

Finally, when the meeting took place, he was no longer the smart suited civil servant carrying his smart attache case, he was the little boy whose school uniform felt badly fitting, his hair tousled, his socks hanging down, his shoes all scuffed and all the rest of the form was laughing at him while the head teacher read down thunderous denunciations of his English composition for all to hear. He could see the slanted folding school desk top, the inkwell set to the right hand corner as he stared downwards, not daring to look up. Very soon, all his secrets hidden away in his schooldesk would be brought to the horrid light of day for everyone to see his inadequacies. He could somehow see Deed laughing at him loudest of all as perspiration streamed down him and he started hyperventilating. He really was feeling very ill and out of sorts and nothing like this had ever happened before to him in his life.


	39. Chapter 39

**Scene Thirty-Nine**

Sir Ian never knew just what he said or did to take himself out of the blackest nightmare of his life. Somehow, he managed to stumble to his feet despite the glare of disapproving authority and the laughter from his peers. It agonised him how nobody had any idea just how much he was dying inside from the heartless mockery all around him. For once in his life, he paid no regard to the papers on his desk or his duties and responsibilities that had been deeply inculcated into him from an early age. Making a conscious decision had nothing to do with his present state of mind. All that he knew was that he should take himself somewhere, anywhere where he could have some peace and quiet. He tore out of the room and banged the door shut behind him, looking wildly around him. He stumbled down endless corridors like a drunken man, spasmodic shafts of light slanting in through the windows. He feverishly reached up towards his collar as he was choking for air and, for once in his life, the state of his appearance meant nothing to him. He pulled with both hands at his tie to loosen it, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, before that wretched piece of material jammed tight on him. Nevertheless, he'd bought himself a few precious inches clearance for blessed air to be sucked down into his lungs. Although he didn't feel quite so strangulated, he felt dizzy and disoriented. The solid black and white familiarity of horizontals and perpendiculars , the physical geography that he knew so well, was drunkenly leaning at crazy angles and appeared opaque. Indistinct and long established meanings and reference points in his world were difficult to unscramble, as if his very foundations were crumbling beneath him. Once, he would have panicked and striven for rhyme and reason for everything around him. Now he accepted that he really was feeling out of sorts and he should struggle on as best as he could. Coldly and analytically matching contained order to the universe around him felt utterly absurd to him for the first time in his life. So this is what madness must be like, he thought to himself as he wiped his streaming brow with the back of his hand.

He didn't feel safe round here even though the corridor was deserted. He wasn't even sure where the exit was in this insane asylum. All he knew was that he had to keep on moving. So he staggered onwards like a purposeful drunk as he gulped in great lungfuls of air. To his relief, he came to a dark foyer whose only illumination came from small windows inset in a set of old fashioned oak double doors. He might have wondered if this was a trap but somehow, he knew that the key to the highway was presented to him from such an unpromising perspective. He pushed his way through, forward towards another set of doors and finally, he was blinded by the brilliant daylight outside. He was free- if he could manage living in freedom.

Indescribable feelings swept over Sir Ian like a tidal wave mixed by some crazy desire to look for the nearest park. He hadn't the faintest idea why he should be going there, what he might find. All he knew was that he should go there. It didn't occur to him that he might be a schoolboy bunking off school. The sentiment would have meant nothing to him. He paid no attention to his surroundings, where he was going or whatever route he should be going. He stumbled along a dusty path, occasionally scuffing his highly polished shoes and catching at the sparse air in his lungs. He was aware that he'd not done so much running for what seemed like ages but he could be wrong about that one as well. He wasn't rightly sure what to believe about anything though he caught a fleeting thought that told him that at some time in the future, he might figure it all out.

While the outside was bathed in daylight, he couldn't be sure of the world that he was running through, only that it seemed wild and untamed to him. For once in his life, it didn't bother him in his present state of delerium. Finally, he spied a set of green railings and what seemed like privet bushes that stood between him and the peaceful open countryside that he knew was on the other side. He simply had to follow it along to what he was sure would be the gates and, sure enough, they mistily came into view. Eagerly, he rushed through the gap and he hurried along the pathway, feeling the cooling breezes on his skin. Suddenly, he came upon a carved white stone shape and, blinking to clear his eyes, he spied an old fashioned water fountain, the sort he could remember from his schooldays. Eagerly, he found the brass knob and placed his lips at the feeble stream of water that raised itself a couple of inches off the water outlet before falling back on itself and back down the drain. He suddenly realised that he was ravenously thirsty but the water he was drinking only made him realise how profound his thirst was and how little it met his knew now that someone on the bottom rung of the ladder knows how priceless that distance upwards is from the ground beneath him.

Finally, he staggered off into the open spaces where some kind soul had provided a park bench only on the basis that some worn out traveller might need succour. He let himself drop down, being such a person and held his face in his hands for a period of time that might have been an eternity. He had nowhere else to go.

John Deed was walking his dog Mimi in a favourite mental shelter that he had come to prize, one of the small parks that some Victorian philanthropist had provided as a break from the soulless stone and brick edifices. Since Jo had broken up with him and their lunchtime walks on the green near the court had stopped, he'd started contemplating his existence in this rectangular patch of nature on this unusually cold but fine November day.

His eyes were struck by the unmistakeable sight of Sir Ian Rochester sitting on the park bench in the shade of a large oak tree and his curiosity and puzzlement were immediately aroused. What on earth was this man doing here, bearing in mind that he had the Lord Chancellor's Department to run? His posture immediately aroused his natural concern as the man was rocking gently back and forth, his head in his hands. These were the signs of total desperation. Immediately, his pace quickened and Mimi sensed just where her master intended to go. The closer he got, the more alarmed John became. He threw aside their long history of antagonisms and instinct framed the words with which he called out to the man.

"Are you all right, Ian?"

Deep in the pit of the most uttermost despair, Sir Ian heard these words as the full implications of what he'd done hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. He'd been held up to ridicule by the Permanent Secretary and he'd irretrievably blotted his copy book. Dementedly running out of the meeting and going absent without leave was the

civil service equivolent of a hanging offence.

What totally went through Sir Ian's elaborate structure of identity was that the one man who showed any real concern was his bitterest enemy, the man who had consistently foiled all his schemes and who laughed openly in his at the point when automatic habit prompted him to brush aside such help, it also hit him that none of his supposed colleagues had made any attempt to follow after him. It dawned on him that the one person to show him any honest sentiment, either anger, amusement or concern was Deed and he couldn't be more desperate or lost than he was right now. He grabbed at the lifeline that was thrown out to him with the same reflex instinct as a drowning man would.

"As it happens, I couldn't be worse off if I tried. I've just been held up to ridicule in a meeting of departmental heads and I did the unforgiveable. I ran out of the meeting and came to this park for some fresh air. The past months or so have been pure hell and this was the last straw.I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."

"That's terrible," John said putting in the sort of expression in his voice that he briefly imagined Nikki would remembers how he'd called on them in moments of desperation and they'd gently got him to tell them his troubles. This time, it was down to him to take on that role and repay the favour. "You must tell me about it. I really want to help you. Time is definitely on our side."

"Everything's getting on top of me, John. I'm being asked to do the impossible with no thanks, no mercy if I fail. There's noone around me I can talk to, something I've only just realised. I don't feel I have any connection with anything around me. I'm living in some very automated, neatly ordered hell and I can't make sense of it."

John didn't know what to say next for the life of him. For Sir Ian's world to so spectacularly burst apart the way it had obviously done was all too much, too soon for him to assimilate let alone advise the man.

"I'm listening. Believe it or not, there are times when I seriously doubt my own sense of purpose in the world. The traditional public school education of our generation - stiff upper lip and all that- doesn't really equip you to handle self doubt."

"I've been covering it up by burying myself in my work only that form of solace isn't working any more. It's made me realise I've been lonely, on my own ever since Francesca left way she did it was so cold, so contemptuous, so heartless. She made me feel that I was only half a man. I was very fond of her only I could never express my true feelings to her. Every time I tried, it came out like a civil service memo. Looking back on it, I can see why she had an affair with you," Sir Ian answered, the pace and delivery of his words slowing down rattling out his words at breakneck speed. John was beginning to feel that his sympathy was starting to take effect.

"That's something I feel really guilty about, Ian," John said gently, his soft voice underlain by a tone of regret that Sir Ian picked up on. "I do remember the civilised way you behaved towards her and for me to pursue her was mean-minded and below the belt. I should never have done it."

"That's all right John. She only married me for my money and position and I'm sure she became bored with me very quickly,"Sir Ian replied ,the faintest smile on his face for the first time they met. It was the sense of stark self-negation that made John feel intensely sorry for him. "I kept blaming you as you were very convenient to blame. I was wrong, It should have been obvious to me that she pursued you like every suave young man she ever came across at our social gatherings."

This was the first time John had ever had a backstage glimpse of the apparachtik that he'd previously scorned. He'd never suspected such vulnerabilities had existed behind the stiff-necked exterior. Now he maintained a companionable silence that encouraged Sir Ian to continue.

"I've never really been what you call a ladies' man. I mean years spent at an all boy's public school up until I was eighteen makes you think that the opposite sex was some foreign species. I was always stiff and awkward around women but I could hardly believe my luck when Francesca accepted my wedding proposal. I couldn't believe my good fortune. It did my self esteem no end of good."

"I'm genuinely glad that you've had some happiness in your life," John replied.

Just then, Sir Ian became aware of the relaxed comfortable world they inhabited. Privet bushes that lined the park had the effect of cancelling out concrete responsibilities that pressed on him. The air was clear and sharp and a faint breeze started to cool his overheated brow. The grass was neatly cut and their park bench was their island in a land of tranquillity. John's face was gentle and his blue eyes were friendly.

"Of course, all women flock to you. I think I set the spies on you to catch you out in flagrente because I was jealous of you," Sir Ian admitted, his frankness both surprising and pleasing John.

"An all boy's public school really doesn't help a growing generation in dealing with the opposite sex. We're archetypes, you being shy and inhibited around women and me being a womaniser. It meant that both of us never learnt to become friends with women. I'm only recently trying to do something about it." Sir Ian nodded with appreciation at John's kindly insight. It made some sense of his life

"I saw you and George with your friends, Nikki Wade and Helen Stewart and others in a restaurant a month obviously all liked you.I was watching you from the back of the restaurant."

John smiled freely at the pleasant memory and Sir Ian suspected that this was a way of living that was much more agreeable than his present obsessive wondered about tiptoeing into the water.

"You need to rethink what you're going to do with the rest of your life," suggested John mildly. As soon as he uttered the words, he knew he had made a mistake. They were too purposeful, too soon.

"I don't know. Become a monk? Let's face it, I'm halfway there already," laughed Sir Ian in tones that rang loud alarm bells in John's mind. "Work for some kind of charity. No, I'm too dried up inside. A long time civil servant ends up not really suitable for any other walk of 't ask me to explain why but it's true."

"Why not take a holiday and gain some space for yourself?" John pursued gently.

It was then that something snapped inside Sir Ian, judging by the twitch of his facial muscles.

"That's just what I don't want, don't need. Thank you, John for your kindness and your patience with me but my destiny is to be a career civil servant even if I do get exiled to DEFRA." The way the man talked, he looked as if he was staring in the reverse line of the sights of a rifle, one of the firing squad waiting for the right moment. He breathed in and out several times while John remained silent, feeling that further intervention was futile.

"I will go home and take it easy," Sir Ian said in more level tones than they'd spoken all this time. "And this conversation, it remains with us?"

"You have my word for it,"John replied, summoming up every power of conviction in his voice, meaning every word of what he said. Sir Ian believed the man, feeling the old-school values emanating from him, still shining bright before modern living had so tarnished them. Sir Ian straightened his collar and tie, shook John warmly by the hand and made his uncertain way out of the park.

It was the first time in their lives that they'd shaken hands with each other. John whistled softly under his breath at the momentous importance of such an occasion- in an empty park on a cold November day.

As John carried on walking through the park, Mimi pulled gently at her lead, sensing that her master was in a thoughtful mood by the way he paced. He had a nasty feeling what was going to happen to Sir Ian. He'd tried his best to guide him onto a better way of living but his best clearly wasn't good enough. Suddenly, John's mobile sounded in his pocket. He looked nervously at the number flashing as he wasn't in the mood for mindless company. To his intense relief, it was Kristine.

"Hi John, it's Kristine," she called out confidently enough. "I wanted to phone you to find out whether you're vegetarian or not so I can buy in the food after work."

"Officially, I'm a vegetarian as far as the Lord Chancellor's Department is concerned. They consider that a subversive trouble maker must be a veggie as the two go together in their narrow minds so why should I disappoint them? In actual fact, I'm bored with the same rather bland food so I could do with something different."

"Something different you want, something different you will have. I can guarantee you of that."

"Is it Ok to bring Mimi?

"Of course you can. I'll definitely be there for you tomorrow night," Kristine said with a mixture of playfulness and tenderness that lifted John's spirits and self esteem no end.


	40. Chapter 40

**Scene Forty **

John's feelings, as he buttoned up his shirt and mentally prepared himself for his date with Kristine were strangely formless and strangely familiar. Part of him relished the thought of being let off his self-imposed leash so he could be hungrily all male once again. Certainly, there was no moral obligation to hold him back but the other half of him knew that this wasn't going to be a one night stand with some random woman. The friendship that had already grown up between them had already become more advanced than was normal for him. He was heading into unknown teritory and would have to feel his way as he went along, psychically speaking. He thought long and hard about whether or not to bring a bouquet of flowers along with the requested bottle of Chablis wine. He attempted his best to to see the world as Kristine saw it and finally concluded that his own presence and the wine would be enough only so long as he could be as up to the mark as Kristine would such a frame of mind, he floated out into the evening to turn up at her flat at seven on the dot. Mimi settled down comfortably in the passenger seat of John's convertible, sensing that this trip was going to be out of the ordinary.

In the meantime,Kristine had been hard at work on one of her culinary concoctions, something that gave her pleasurable self-satisfaction. The special school she'd attended had laid great emphasis on teaching her the skills of self-sufficiency so that where a conventional sighted approach wouldn't work, a more lateral approach would be devised to make the most imaginative lateral use of alternative skills. While she'd cook her standard range of dishes for friends who sociably came over to visit, an extra special effort would be called for the man or woman who she wanted to pull.

Her capacious memory knew just where each ingredient was placed on her work surface so, leaving the chicken on one side, she concentrated on her home made stuffing. After chopping a large onion, she kneaded it into a pound of pork sausage meat, and worked in 2 teaspoons of ground sage, 2 tablespoons of lemon juice, and dipped the mixture into two beaten eggs and breadcrumbs to bind it all together. She then coaxed the stuffing into the breast of the chicken, secured it with a small skewer to keep the skin of the breast in place and placed it into the roasting tin, lined with foil and then onto the top shelf of the oven. Kristine then turned her attention to peeling the potatoes one by one, cutting them into chunks, part boiling them for fifteen minutes and then draining them. She avoided her hands being scalded by instincts unknown to an uninitiated sighted person but one which was engrained into her as thoroughly as any task she'd mastered. All it took was spatial awareness, memory, method and above all, concentration of thought.

She carefully placed a roasting tin containing a substantial amount of olive oil into the oven to heat up and instinct told her to remove it when the oil was almost at smoking point, and the potatoes were placed carefully into the oil. With a sprinkling of fresh thyme and fresh sage to the roasting tin of potatoes, the bulk of the meal was well and truly started for the ensemble to cook for between forty-five minutes and an hour and just as the potatoes were ready, she removed the chicken from the oven to rest. While all this cooking was progressing, she selected her favourite vegetables, carrots and broccoli. She'd chopped the broccoli and was just about to start on the carrots when John announced his presence just at the ideal time as she sighed with satisfaction..

The other side of the door, John had taken the lift up to the sixth floor flat in Kilburn and politely knocked on the front door, accompanied by a slight scrabbling sound and the unmistakeable sounds of a barking dog. Jules immediately pricked up his ears and gingerly wondered just how safe and secure his territorial space was. In turn, she placed the carrots and knife carefully down, paced through the spacious flat and opened the front door.

John was pleasantly surprised to see Kristine attractively dressed in a long but slightly floaty black skirt with cream spots, and a long tunic-style black top that was just about low enough to draw attention to a tattoo of a red and blue snake and more than a hint of her well-shaped breasts. He made no comment apart from polite preliminaries as they verbally adjusted around each other. Jules and Mimi equally recognised the need to edge around each other, giving vent to short, sharp barks until they both finally found their place in the flat. Kristine listened intently to the two animals while John was nervously watching. He wasn't sure if any trouble was going to break out over territorial matters. It crossed his mind that the very same thing had happened when John had been first to lay claim to his place in the judge's digs and got off on the wrong foot with Monty. Finally, John became conscious of the delicious smell of cooking wafting through from the kitchen the smart and tidy surroundings, the atmosphere felt right and that was the most important thing.

"I'm just finishing off the vegetables. Just take a seat and I'll be with you in no time,"Kristine called out in clear confident tones. This reminded him how he'd definitely liked her voice the first time they'd engaged in conversation. The texture was pleasing and definitely unlike the women he'd slept with as 'one night stands.' He also sensed that she didn't want any gallantly meant but socially inept assistance with the cooking. This was Jules' cue to seek attention from this male human whom he hoped would play with him. He trotted forward to present John with his favourite rubber toy and John instinctively played with him, pretending to hold onto one side while Jules pretended to growl through his bared teeth, gripping onto the other side. Mimi took this play in good sport.

"He'll worship you for life, John," laughed Kristine. "He's always preferred men, because he was trained by one." For a moment, John didn't answer as, in a child-like fashion, he was preoccupied by the game and noticed nothing else.

"Didn't I hear tell that you're a vegetarian, John?" Kristine asked while she chopped the carrots into portions. Her highly developed sense of touch carefully gathered in the pieces and she dropped them into a saucepan full of water.

"I have that reputation," John replied in his silkiest tone of voice."I only adopted it after pressure from my daughter Charlie and only to confirm the reactionary views of the LCD who think that dangerous radicalism goes hand in hand with vegetarianism. Let's say that perhaps I deserve an amnesty tonight for my good behaviour."

"I think you deserve it," Kristine replied in studied tones as her smile broadened considerably.

"Your researches are very thorough as I might have expected. Where did you hear about that one?" John asked politely, sitting in the comfortable armchair.

"I was chatting to George and Karen at the Howard League especially knows all your dark secrets."

"They are two very good looking women, very strong and very compassionate," John replied with studious understatement. At that moment, he really did feel that he was bestowing a compliment as if he were appraising a masterpiece of art.

"I find them as sexy as you obviously do. I can tell it in your voice a mile away," retorted Kristine as she dropped the carrots into the saucepan and lit the gas. John laughed out loud as his confession of the truth. He was warming to this woman who could kindly see through him a mile away. He found her intelligence very sexy as well as reassuring. Above all, he was profoundly reassured by her uncomplicated acceptance of who he was and blissfully conscious that he didn't feel threatened by that knowledge. That kind of comforting feeling that emanated from Kristine was something he hadn't had for a very long time.

**"**I was married to George once. We're better friends than we ever used to be,"John smiled thinking fondly of her and, in the background, briefly sensing Nikki and Helen's approving smiles.

"Wow, you've certainly got good taste," grinned Kristine, the delicately poised compliment reassuring John. He sensed that this was her way of telling him that she was bisexual but in the nicest possible way. As another facet was revealed of this remarkable woman, and once again he accepted what was in front of him and watched in fascinated interest as Kristine tended to the dinner. One question popped into his mind which he immediately decided to vocalise.

"If you don't mind me asking, how do you propose to carve the chicken?"

Kristine laughed appreciatively at the man's delicately phrased question. She knew that this was a genuinely open-ended question with no tricks as he guessed blindly at the outer limits of her capabilities.

"The simple answer is that I don't. Even I can't manage this one. You serve the meat and I'll attend to the rest. Mind you, there are serious advantages in being blind, free train and bus fares, in London at least."

John sprang to the task with alacrity. She looked on fondly at him partly indulging his male ego and partly desiring to do his fair share of the work. It took them no time to serve the dinner and the aroma of food wafted its way round the flat.

"Basket," Kristine commanded with just the right pitch to deter the very determined Jules from insinuating himself in just the right position to scoff any droppings. With his tail hanging down low, he slunk into the designated space with half an eye on Mimi. Perhaps there was half a chance that this less forceful human was the weak point that could be sneakily exploited.

"Sit, Mimi," followed up John with far less authority in his voice than he had wished, especially when compared with the control he exercised in the criminal court. Being in a strange flat and feeling a definite sense of forceful control around, Mimi obeyed John more readily than was his wont and found a suitable parking spot away from the table while the two humans sat down to eat the tasty meal, John noting without thinking about it that Kristine was a good cook and this was the most thoroughly enjoyable evening he'd spent for many a long time.

"This meal really is delicious. I'm really glad to fall off the waggon, so to speak," John pronounced with a sly undertone as he sipped the excellent glass of chilled wine.

"I've put my GCSE in catering to good that time, I really didn't know what career to pursue."

The last thing John thought as he mulled over that last remark was that this woman was being boastful. She was simply laying claim for the range of abilities she possessed. Everything that happened that evening struck the right note as time meandered onwards, It was only as the evening drew on that John suddenly realised that Kristine hadn't lit a cigarette the entire evening. He realised that she might be making a deliberate effort not to smoke with John in her flat for the first time. His inquisitive nature couldn't let the matter pass.

"I'm intrigued to see how such a dedicated smoker can exercise such restraint tonight."

"Well, I'm quietly hoping that you might feel the urge to kiss me later this evening," Kristine's answer came back, quick as a flash.

"You mean I have a say in the matter?" bantered John with an audible smile in his voice.

"But of course," teased Kristine as the ice-cold wine that had been in the fridge was pleasurably wending its way round both their senses.

Much later in the evening, Kristine pointed out that they ought to get Mimi and Jules to relieve themselves last thing at night. John nodded and the two of them slipped out into the night and patiently waited for their pernickerty animals to potter around the park opposite the flats and finallty select their precise place.

"Do you mind if I turn the lights down? It feels more comfortable that way," John persuaded in his silkiest tone of voice after they had settled down on the comfortable sofa only to be hit with the realisation that the difference between light and dark meant nothing to her. Kristine laughingly gave her gracious permission, pleased beyond her ability to express it how this man very appealingly made a series of mistakes that told her how he could see beyond her blindness. That was precisely the way she liked her relationships in the broadest sense of the word.

It was at such a moment that his irresistably wandering eye kept reverting to the tattoo of the red and blue snake. It did help focus his attention.

"I know you're looking at my tattoo John," Kristine suddenly said teasingly. Having been gently pushed to listen to nuances in voices, John guessed that she was pleased and flattered by his attention.

"I was wondering how you came by it. I couldn't help noticing it," John replied in like coin.

"I wasn't particularly getting on with my father at the occasion of my 21st birthday, so when he gave me forty quid, I spent it on something I knew he would hate if he ever found out about it."

The bleakness of Kristine's reply felt as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown in his face after such a buildup of warm intimacy though he knew that this wasn't directed at him. The final words were very telling indeed. It was an alien reaction to such a father directed man, both in his relationship with his daughter and his own adoptive father, that sturdily independent baker who had brought him up to always question and debate. However, he jumped over yet another mental hurdle with a great effort and began to wonder about those human beings whose fathers were weak, inneffective or just plain rejecting. His own adoptive mother had committed suicide when he was young, throwing him into a state of prolonged mental confusion about the overdose of sleeping pills also rejecting him. When he thought about it, this might have something to do with his problems in forming long term relationships, his capacity for warm friendships being his way of getting back to the original path he'd been blocked from. As he dragged himself back to the present, he realised he'd been tardy in making a suitable response.

"It's obvious that you don't get on with your ought to be proud of you after all you've achieved in your life," John heard himself saying, sounding in his ears way too conventional for his liking. He knew that this wasn't up to the mark.

"He would rather I had failed my exams and remained thin."

"I really honestly hadn't noticed that as a problem," John said in a puzzled, distracted tone of voice. Unexpectedly, his totally spontaneous remark did the trick. She was being accepted for who she was without anyone wanting to change her. Her father's ghost was promptly banished to dark recesses where it was dealable with.

"Come on, John. We don't have to dwell on any skeletons in the closet if it's going to interfere with who we are right now," Kristine urged softly. The mood of the evening had changed back again to being welcoming and friendly. She felt good about herself and knew beyond doubt that John was attracted to her for who she was.

"That sounds like an invitation to go to bed," John answered in his silkiest tone of knew that this attractive woman had a real weakness for this type of cadence. It was an unspoken private joke between them.

When they kissed, John immediately felt a wealth of experience lay in this woman. sexual desire was peculiarly mixed with affection as their hands slid over each other. He also knew that there wasn't any hurry for him to get this woman into bed as he normally felt. Everything felt perfectly natural and he went to unfasten that black top only Kristine stopped him.

"John, there is nothing more that I want to do now than make love with you but I insist on having the light off. It's the same for any sighted man. I'm not as self-confident as you think I am. If you can't see me , we're both equal."

Kristine led John by the hand as his senses strove to make sense of the blackness and they made their way to the large double bed. The soft rustling sounds of discarded clothing was a preliminary to John finding himself lying on his back and Kristine above him. He smiled wryly to himself as he figured to himself, expect the unorthodox and run with , the unorthodox felt really good to him as this very surprising woman met him from out of the blackness. He loved the feeling of their nakedness together as they kissed and caressed each other with a sense of being out of time from the cares of his life. .

For a second, as her lips left his, he was fractionally worried until he could feel her start to move down the length of his body and knew where she was heading. What about her, he wondered as he knew that she was preparing to go down on him? As they had danced the dance of courtship around each other, he had taken it for granted that her sexual satisfaction was equally as important as his own but not in any egotistical fashion. If he hadn't learnt that much in the last few years, he'd learned nothing of that vital part of life which wasn't based on ideas but physically placing yourself on the line in the most naked way imaginable. It was only when she stopped short to taking him to a climax that he understood at last and he felt her smile through the darkness when they rolled over in bed. As he made love to Kristine, he knew that he was in the presence of someone who was as skilled in lovemaking as he was. Everything felt as fine where they lay without that sense of transience as he'd felt before. This wasn't some strange flat where he'd never pass that way again, he thought, as they were locked in a mixture of growing passion and affection. Finally, when they both came to orgasm, they both sank back in the comfort of the bed which was their island of dreams, John's arm round Kristine's wasn't the first time they'd make love, Jogn decided but only the starters.

When John finally lay alongside Kristine and they wrapped themselves around each other, he had a feeling of utter peace that he'd not felt for a long wasn't what normally happened at a strange woman's flat and he couldn't for the life of him analyse why he felt so good about himself, except that he tenderly hoped that Kristine felt the same as he did. They gently stroked each other's faces in the darkness where she was a felt presence, very close to him.

"How old do you think I am, John? You've roused my curiosity. You know how it is," she wheedled, turning his favourite instincts exquisitely around on him. For this reason alone, John was really flummoxed by this question. He knew that, in terms of years she must be comparatively young but she held the wisdom of someone twice her age. This was so vastly unfair as whichever error he made, he was going to be really wrong.

"I'm really not sure. I think you're thirty-three."

"Bloody hell! What an insult," came the young or too old, John wondered in puzzlement as he strove for a suitable answer?

"You did ask me. I've done my best," John said with a slightly woebegone tone in his voice which made Kristine laugh affectionately and kiss him really did like this guy.

"I know darling. Let's settle down and sleep," Kristine said softly, laying her forefinger across his lips. For someone whose instinct was to defy being told what to do, John meekly and gratefully complied.

The next day, John and Kristine lazily got up, collecting their strewn clothing. John knew that both of them would be having to go elsewhere but, for once in his life, he was in no hurry. She made him a mug of coffee and poured out orange juice for herself. Brilliant sunlight poured through the window and the faint sound of wind chimes made John look at the bookcase, stuffed full of DVDs, and audiobooks and braille books on the bottom shelf.

"What sort of music do you like?" Kristine asked. "Put on whatever you like."

John immediately picked out the Mozart flute concerto and, as the first strains of the music floated in the air, Kristine smiled. Twenty minutes into the CD, she remarked,"I used to play that piece."

"I played the violin when I had more spare time,"John answered without personal details that few of his friends knew came straight off the top of his mind with no problems.

After the CD finished, they wended their way out onto the balcony. An unnaturally sunny November morning prevailed with a hint of warmth and it made for a comfortable sense of laziness.

" I would really like to hear you sing. You must be able to do that,"John found himself saying from out of nowhere.

"I don't know you well enough for that," Kristine replied softly. John knew that this wasn't a rebuff, more a promise for the future. The words hung in the air as if they were watching a play that both of them were participating in.

"That could be remedied in 's no pressure where friendship is concerned," John said quietly. Kristine smiled at this response. She didn't want this guy to fall in love with her or vice versa but for their relationship to be as he'd simply stated. It was just what she wanted to hear.

"I know. Let's have a walk up on Primrose Hill," Kristine suddenly called out after a long pause. A light had flashed across her face illuminating her slow smile. In this moment, this woman came over to John as younger than he'd been used to in the nicest possible way. Who could resist this impulsiveness, certainly not with John's own track record?

Both dogs pricked up their ears and jumped out of the dog basket they'd shared that night. They barked excitedly and went round and round in circles trying to find Mimi's leash and Jules' harness. Both owners laughed at the spectacle, knowing that there was no way out even if they wanted it. In no time at all, John led the way out of the flat, having to rein in Mimi's excitement while Kristine locked up the flat with her right hand and holding onto the harness with her left. They went down in the lift, the automatic device helpfully intoning which floor they were on and headed out for John's car. John gallantly held the passenger door open for Kristine while Jules and Mimi plonked themselves on the back seat.

The open top of the convertible meant that a cold brisk wind blew life into them as the car cut through the London streets on this sunny Sunday morning, divorced from all cares. John had hazy feelings of nostalgia as they were indulging this very British of weekend pasttimes and Kristine could remember happier days when her mother was alive and she was a little girl in what seemed an eternity ago. Finally, they came to the park they'd been to before and they did their best to restrain two very excited animals. In Jules' book, this man certainly could do no wrong after making friends last night.

Finally, they moved through the gates and companionably linked arms on this very special Sunday as they set off into the freedom and vastness of the open fields and the hill smiling down on them. It was as if the park had made a special appearance for them, not discounting Jules and Mimi. They had so much to explore while the humans, bless them, were forgiven their strange innattention to the smells and sounds only dogs could perceive.


	41. Chapter 41

**Scene Forty-One**

The VIP room at 'Chix' had never been intended as an exclusive private area so that only an inner circle were allowed in and Trisha and Sally-Anne made sure that it stayed that way. It was a hangout place where those who wanted to socialise away from the dance floor could chill out when they wanted to. Consequently, there was a regular interchange of women between it and the music powerhouse one floor below and so Trisha and Sally-Anne saw to it that the club remained a welcoming inclusive social milieux.

Because Ros and Jenny worked long, unsocial hours for the police force, they gravitated to Chix whenever they could spare the time and so they were sitting in on the fringes of the discussion over the judge's breakup with Jo Mills. They were content to absorb the wit and atmosphere and make the occasional contribution

"I guess we're the token butches round here," joked Ros to Helen during an unusually long break in the conversation.

"Favourite butches, that tough exterior beats a heart of gold. Nikki and I won't forget your kindness in driving us home when we were too pissed to drive."

"So what's with this judge guy that's got you all on his side? I only heard of him in passing at the time Karen was up in court over that hit and run murder rap."

"Helen and I and others got the idea that the two of them were finally going to get back together after a bumpy on off relationship over the years. The next we heard was that Jo fetched up with this rock chick, a real turnup for the book as that's not her 's a strong respectable streak in her though she'd deny it."

"So what does she do for a living? I mean is she some kind of groupie?" pursued Jenny, her instinctive habit for pulling together the facts not deserting her in her off duty moments. "I mean, plenty of women fantasize about it but few really make it."

"I really haven't got an earthly,"George confessed, feeling called on to speak up as she knew Jo Mills best of any of them. "Only Jo might know but I'm not on the best of terms with her these days."

This receptacle of news was placed into their capacious memories for reasons they were strangers to. It happened that way, they reasoned, as they sipped their orange squashes, something they'd got used to by had examples to set when they got behind the wheel after a night out at Chix.

Back in the solid fastness of the police station, DI Martin was contemplating her professional situation. It was obvious that her team was having their time cut out in dealing with the fallout from the local drugs scene. The pernicious long term effect of the smack and crack that flowed into the run down estates on her beat meant that the crime spanning house break-ins, stolen car radios and mobile phones all served the purpose of the interchange of dodgy deals and ready money into the hands of young kids to feed their drug habits. It was obvious that her squad were holding their fingers in the dike which was leaking badly. All this was caused by too many impressionable and vulnerable teenagers being seduced by the cheap and nasty idea of 'getting out of it' and being tempted by forbidden pleasures. None of the kids she'd come across in her professional career sat down with the deliberate intention of being addicts. That was part of the problem. She'd questioned too many of those who'd been arrested for street crime who were afraid that the next day, they'd be strung out without the brown powder or white crystals they craved. They talked endlessly in a self pitying fashion if only they could be delivered from the misery of their lives, endlessly arguing to themselves that they had no choice in their lives. Although they were small fry, they were the bane of her existence when she knew that the dealers were at the back of is where her girlfriend came in, so DI Martin realised as she reached for her phone.

DCI Taylor was conscious of how much sustained hard work it took to operate in parallel to the drugs barons to keep one step ahead of the game and close down their operations. Up till recently, neanderthal criminal gangs operated at the centre, funnelling in money for drugs through convenient front organisations behind which the rule of absolute command operated to police their ruthless network of fear and intimidation. There was no room for bungled operations, for not sticking to the plan and the price for failure of their operatives was very high. the drugs runners, the small scale buyers who retailed through their networks right down to the street user. Of course, there was the assistance strangely provided by minor dealers who were prescribed methadone as the apparently more respectable kind of so called controlled addiction where some of them traded part of their prescription for heroin not to mention those whose prescriptions were never enough to satisfy them and ended up buying illegal supplements. This smaller scale grubby operation were the bane of life for the overworked GP who could so easily guess wrong where their clients were concerned and who knows where the prescriptions they signed ended up. The first rule of operating in this environment was that nothing was what it seemed. In her game, a solid counterintelligence operation was the one and only way to not get emotionally drowned is a sea of lies, half truths and random imaginings.

Being on the beat in the drugs squad was a spooky undercover job as DCI Taylor knew very well from her own experience in keeping tabs on the myriad interweavings of interactions. It wasn't easy to assume an alternative identity that enabled the operative to socialise with lowlifes who you wouldn't want to share the same universe with. She remembered chatting up the very macho, very sleazy Charlie Atkins whilst deftly fending off his very obvious attempts to pull her but in a way that wouldn't blow the entire operation. By sheer luck, his wavering attention lit on a blonde bimbo who vacantly adored his line in crude innuendo, tough guy posturing not to mention his very well lined wallet. She let the woman think that she'd stolen him under her very nose and pretended anger at Charlie Atkins' wandering eye.

The trouble was that the attempt to put the tin lid on his operation went off at half cock after months of stealthily drawing the noose round his neck. The fact that he'd bribed the jury didn't help but what compounded the disaster was that her own DCI at the time was too greedy, too cocksure and sprang the trap on him without properly ensuring that the evidence couldn't be denied. She remembered giving evidence in court and holes being picked in her evidence by the opposing barrister. Afterwards, she watched the proceedings from the visitor's gallery and saw the case going down. A strange kind of miracle took place where Atkins was finally gunned down by a pizza delivery man, accompanied by the smile of his daughter Lauren Atkins, a mere woman whom her DCI had discounted. A quietly good looking young woman wasn't going to count in the ethics of the East End where her deadly ruthlessness was well concealed and therefore overlooked. It was only when she'd been promoted and her DCI had moved on that she'd made sure of getting Atkins' deadly rival, Charlie Williams put away, the other kingpin of the drug world. This left a gaping hole which DCI Taylor knew would be filled sooner or later. With so many drug addicts paying sky high prices for drugs which had suddenly got scarce, sooner or later this gap would be filled.

It crossed her mind that the previous drug barons were fairly crude in their thinking, no matter how conniving they were in the details of their operations and how streetwise they thought themselves. Both of them had large consignments shipped into the city of London, a trusted inner circle of like minded people taking charge of security and breaking it down into smaller consignments. They'd also clearly watched too many gangster movies as they were growing up so they learnt to imitate what they'd seen on the silver their modus operandi was understood, all it took to direct the counteroperation from the centre was calm and clear thinking and infinite persistence.

DCI Taylor became aware that things were starting to change, that more drugs were creeping into her patch but not through the old networks. The game had definitely changed and it was obvious that there were more subtle minds at work. It unsettled her especially as there had only been one small haul that had come to light. There was no Mr Bigs apparently in operation yet drugs were slipping through the net in large didn't add , she threw down her biro in despair and just at that moment, the phone rang.

"Hello you," she said affectionately to the one person she wanted to talk to. The problem was that it felt wrong, talking to her beloved when she was supposed to be on , what the for once, she could indulge herself. "I'm glad it was you that phoned and not somebody else."

"You sound pretty down, sweetheart," came the concerned voice down the other end of the phone, "Anything I can help with?"

"Well, some tender loving care when we get home as long as we're both not too knackered by a hard day's work but I've got a problem that you guys on the beat might

help out with," came the job weary reply with a faint spark of tenderness lurking in the background.

"You'd better spill the beans."

"It's simple, love. Since Atkins and Williams got put away, my job should be easier but it isn't," DCI Taylor said, a torrent of words flowing out of her like a dam being unleashed."It should be the case that there isn't any tinpot dealer that could organise himself to supply drugs on the street so the price of smack should have shot up and there ought to be a lot of addicts who can't get what they'd been used to having on tap but the complete opposite's happened.I can understand a new drugs baron might move in on my patch but I never expected it to happen so you tell me if there's anything going on down the streets that I don't know."

"Hmmn," DI Martin mused as she put her brain into gear. "We're picking up a number of small fry but they're users. No one's saying anything though I'd hardly expect them to say, please nice cops, come and cut off the supply to my dealer. So there's no Mr Big out there, is there?"

"Not that I've found out."

"What about if a number of middle grade dealers clubbed together?"

"You're talking about dealers who are the most selfish, cutthroat, paranoid, ruthless schemers. Would they voluntarily undergo a complete personality transplant if they weren't hooked on immediate rewards? It sounds logical for the risks of discovery to be spread over a number of them but any one of them would prefer someone else to be busted and not them so they can scoop in the spare trade. It's so completely not their style."

"Very well, what about the one dealer having stuff shipped in from outside, from a variety of sources? That way, one of them would be in control and boss the rest of them about? Instead of big consignments coming in and risking seizure, drugs would arrive in way would explain why drugs still keep coming in."

"Hmmn," DCI Taylor said as she pondered this possibility. "I think you might have something there. This sounds more subtle, less neanderthal."

"Perhaps there's a woman at the back of the new drugs ring - either that or a 'new man.'"

DCI Taylor laughed loud and long at her girlfriend's dry witticism. It made her day to have her spirits lifted this way. More to the point, she led them into an entirely fresh field of investigation. Her mind started work straightaway.

"What about Lauren Atkins, or her mother? She was released from prison last June."

"We've been keeping an eye on Yvonne Atkins since she was discharged. Not a squeak. There was always a minicab business that operated as a front but that appears to be going legit. I wouldn't care to cross them as they're both a pretty tough pair. In any case, an old mate of ours, Shirley Cheetham who's a private investigator is both as straight as a die and pretty close to them. She keeps us posted as to what's going on if we need to know for old time's sake."

"So it's back to the drawing board for Mr Big or Ms leads us to the other possibility of courier drivers shipping in the you start checking over the firms and see if anything dodgy comes to light."

"I'll get onto that. See you later sweetheart."

DCI Taylor thought long and hard as she put the phone down and pondered her options. Banking on a sweep of courier firms whose employees who were apt to be 'here today, gone tomorrow' and firms who were careful of the Old Bill at the best of times sounded a dubious single strand to work on. The only other possibility was a discreet call on Mrs Atkins and her daughter to find a possible lead seemed a distinct possibility but she was highly aware that if this were mishandled, it could seriously misfire. This was a job that should come from the highest level, herself. She checked the police databases and pulled up Mrs Atkins address at the time she was originally imprisoned and the information came readily to hand. Sure enough, it pulled up an address which brought up old associations:-

17 Thorney Court

Bridge End

Chelsea

London SW3 2DC

She remembered the times that Charlie Atkins had had his collatr felt and had got away with it. Would this time be different? She picked up the phone to talk to DI Martin for a second opinion.

"Hey, I was just going to phone you only you beat me to it. You weren't going to call in on the Atkins. They might be reformed characters but you're the Old Bill and they might tell you to sod off. You don't know what you'll be walking into. It's a real gamble."

"So what do you suggest?" DCI Taylor suggested, her spirits deflated partly because she knew her girlfriend was telling her the truth.

"Two of my most reliable officers know Yvonne Atkins' niece. She was one of ours till she turned private detective, name of Shirley Cheetham. I get the feeling she might be close to the Atkins without compromising her professional integrity."

"You mean she's straight- in the old fashioned sense," came the slightly chirpier reply, seeing light starting to dawn once again.

"As a die. I suggest you hold your horses till they've sussed out the situation."

"Sounds fine by me. All right, I'll hold off and wait and see what you come up with."

"Better than that, they'll report to you direct if you want it. What's the point of a three times told story? Details can get lost in the translation."

As two phones were finally put down and both women got back to work with a plan of action they could run with , they reflected on how a random impulse and putting two minds together had really paid dividends.


	42. Chapter 42

**Scene Forty-Two**

The powers that be at Larkhall Police Station had realised that they'd got a problem some time after DI Martin had been transferred into their patch and devised their solution.

On the face of it, she presented herself on the first day with a record as a quiet but competent police officer, who had been promoted through the ranks in fairly quick time. She had been introduced by the DCI who started to talk about the 'rest of the lads' before stopping short, while Ros Farmer & Jenny Slater looked stony faced at turn, she was conscious of speculative looks in her direction, noting the absence of a ring on her finger and was aware that her work colleagues were trying to pigeon-hole her, something she didn't need in her life. She was well aware that being a tall good looking brunette, that men she worked with would get the wrong idea about her. She'd developed the knack of heading off lines of conversations that wanted to take her to where she didn't want to go. Instead, she concentrated on notching up a reputation at Larkhall Police Station as being an efficient DI who knew just how far to give a lead without seeming to be pushy and she sought to treat those who worked for them in a friendly and firm fashion and establish her base. She knew her job and this was the reputation she started to attract, something she was glad to receive. Of course, she ran across a couple of particularly testosterone inflated sergeants one of who had been angling for her job for she'd been transferred in and taken it from under his very nose and there had been a particularly ugly confrontation in the canteen.

"I'm not taking interference from an interfering, domineering woman like you," he stormed, knuckles visibly contracting.

"Fine," she said firmly staring down his anger,"Any DI would stick you on a charge for insubordination so why not me? You do as you're told or you know what's coming."

At a nod from his mate, the man backed off , mumbling some sort of excuse. After all, if this woman chose to face him out, he could land in trouble. It all came down to front, like everything that pervaded the East End of London where they had grown up and this woman was muscling in on their act. They didn't like it one bit but that moment wasn't the right one to pick a fight. They went away to their private corner, bemoaning the fact that it had all gone downhill when one of the legends of the force, DI Gossard, had been stabbed by some dyke woman in some dodgy club. Things had never been quite the same as the centre of their power had never really quite held up from that moment onwards. They'd been infiltrated and no one was strong enough to stop it, not like the way Ms Howe had been disposed of years ago.

It was after this incident when chance had placed Ros into sitting in with DI Martin when Becky Elliott has been cross-examined about wounding her mother. It was a bittersweet experience as Ros knew that going back on the beat with Jenny was her idea of heaven yet she wouldn't have another boss who had that unique combination of sympathy and competence as DI Martin had. The guy who was her inspector was ,well just an average guy whose main virtue were that he allowed the pair of them reasonable free rein and also knew better than to try any funny stuff with her. They saw DI Martin around the police station for friendly chats and hoped for the day when chance would bring them all together.

Finally, the powers that be had come to the the obvious conclusion that DI Martin and Ros and Jenny's Inspector would be assigned all the various police officers who didn't fit the mould in the narrow minded macho regime that DI Sullivan was trying to uphold in DI Gossard's memory. The sting in the tail of this apparent generosity was that these staff wouldn't get any didn't bother Ros and Jenny too much as, except for DI Martin, there were too many ambitious sods who were up their own arses and they had no plans to rule the world, just to carry on doing what they were best at.

Ros and Jenny were perfectly relaxed when they were finally summoned into DI Martin's office. It happened quite out of the blue and they were in a jaunty mood. The DI didn't waste any time in briefing about the delicate work she wanted them to undertake on her behalf. She'd thought about the matter carefully and thought that those two women had the honesty necessary for the job but Ros and Jenny considered that this was a mixed blessing. If the very determined Ms Cheetham came to set her face against the proposal, then they would be totally sunk.

"So you want us to do this delicate cloak and dagger operation and get Shirley Cheetham on side? All respect to you but how are you going to poach us for this operation?" Jenny questioned as the problems started to stack up formidably high in their collective minds.

"I've done a deal with your Inspector that you're released for as long as it takes me to make contact with Yvonne that satisfy you?"

Ros and Jenny ran through the rest of their list of objections which DI Martin met with sweet reasonableness rather than overruling them as had happened before when they spoke their minds. Finally, it came down to the fact that no one was better acquainted with Shirley Cheetham than they were even though their friendship was limited. It came down to the fact that they could only do their best and there would be no comeback if they failed. So it was that one grey miserable December day, they found themselves outside the solid wood door of the humble terraced house where Shirley lived, rain dripping down the sides of their police hats waiting for the response to their polite knock.

"Bloody hell, it's you two. If it was the Queen I'd have changed, maybe," was the friendly greeting from the barefoot woman whose T-shirt had been hurriedly been dragged on over faded jeans that were wearing at the knees.

The two women were ushered into the cluttered front room. A television and video recorder were perched in a corner but this was no leisure facility but the tools of her trade in running through evidence in this CCTV surveillance dominated Ros had to pick up a half open file that lay carelessly on the settee. She passed it to Shirley who acknowledged it with a brief 'Ta' before she zoomed out to the kitchen and brought in three cups of coffee, slopping a little of the liquid onto the threadbare carpet. The surroundings felt so much like the no nonsence woman they'd both known.

"I remember you in the old days, Shirley. You really haven't changed that much," Ros said in nostalgic tones. Shirley decided to wait and see what this unexpected call foretold.

"I always wanted to do my own thing. I never bought the idea of rules and regulations."

"Nor did you take to animals like Gossard, his sidekick Sullivan and all the rest of those misogynist bastards. We were safer than others as we're such obvious dykes so long as we were seen and not heard and kept out of the limelight."

"So what's with all this talking about the old times?" Shirley enquired with a sharp look making even Ros wince at the thought of taking the plunge. The really tricky bit was coming up now."I know you better than to spend time in idle conversation when you're busy which is always."

"It's like this Shirley. As you might guess, this isn't just a social call. What we've been asked to do is to figure out just how approachable and knowledgeable your aunt is to giving us information on the drugs trade."

Shirley blinked twice and broke into gentle laughter. It curiously relieved the two policewomen as their friend could have blown a fuse in spectacularly Atkins fashion.

"You've got to be comedians, you two. You know how allergic Yvonne is to the Old Bill. The code of the East End means you don't grass up even your worst enemies."

"We know that very well," Jenny said with considerable feeling in her voice that Shirley picked up on. "This is what we told our boss you'd say. We know that we're talking about the widow of the late gangland boss who rumour had it got him bumped off with an overdose of pizza delivery on the very steps of the Old Bailey."

"Yvonne's not like that anymore," snapped Shirley contemptuously."All that macho shit is for the gangster movies, not real women."

"So what's she like these days? I mean you tell me. It's not as if you ever gave inside information on the Atkins family when you were on the beat together," pursued Ros.

"Before I say anything, you spill the beans on your interest in Yvonne. You know I'm not going to say anything that's going to get the likes of Sullivan breathing down her neck."

Ros looked sharply at the expression of extreme wariness on Shirley's face which enhanced her natural toughness in her sharp brown eyes and strongly defined features. She'd put all her cards on the table and it all depended on how she was going to play her hands.

"All right, I'm sticking my neck out in giving confidential information out to unauthorised personnel," Ros started to say, accompanied by a warning look from Jenny. Wrong words, wrong person, her expression was saying loud and clear. Jenny knew that her more potgoing partner was having a severe attack of nerves

"Cut out that shit, Ros," Shirley said contemptuously. Ros flushed with embarrassment and it opened up a floodgate of plain speaking.

"All right Shirley. We trust you but we're putting our necks on the line. If things go pear-shaped because we've blabbed to you, our necks are on the chopping block, all the decent coppers are dragged down with us and the dinasaurs are back in charge. Besides, we know what a loose cannon you are,"

"Are you so very much tighter, Ros? Didn't you let those couple of nurses off the hook for swerving onto the wrong side of the road and nearly causing an accident because you felt sorry for them?"

"So that's why we were given the job of talking to you rather than anyone else. We have an understanding female boss," Jenny quietly replied.

Shirley laughed at Jenny's honesty. All trace of guardedness left her. She was ready to talk now.

"So do you really believe that we're not after you, Yvonne?" DI Martin said as she sat on a comfy sofa in Yvonne's living room, noticing the sumptuous furnishings, the wide screen television. "I've got different fish to fry. I want to see the drug barons nailed because of the misery and crime that spread out in their wake."

"I believe you," Yvonne said looking the other woman straight in the eye. "Believe it or not but I've met some decent screws for the three years I'd been inside Larkhall Prison until I got released last June. I watched mates of mine get a fair shake, Nikki Wade, Karen Betts, Helen Stewart who'd all been done down by the bastards. They were on the telly and me and my mates really cheered to hear them speak up for all of us."

"I can see how it might be to see fellow prisoners get some justice," DI Martin said trying to enthuse along with this strong minded woman who certainly turned out to be different from how she expected. Yvonne smiled wickedly to see this well-meaning woman fall into the trap she'd laid for her.

"I'm afraid you've got it wrong, Miss. Helen Stewart was once Wing Governor at Larkhall and the government tried to do her under the Official Secrets Act for nothing at all. Karen Betts was fitted up for a hit and run murder she didn't do and she took over from Helen Stewart. Nikki got life for stabbing the copper bastard who was trying to rape her partner."

"That was Gossard. So you really have changed," DI Martin added slowly and thoughtfully after automatically telling the sharp-witted woman everything she felt about a guy who, by all account was a prime example of the 'all men are bastards' club. Yvonne's grin in response revealed that she was taking the measure of this woman who, well, didn't act like a copper.

"I went inside a gangster's moll, believing all that shit I'd learned from Charlie Atkins, thinking that I knew it all. I saw the good, the bad and the ugly in spadefuls. I saw women who got strung out on drugs and realised where the money went to pay for it. When I got out, I got Lauren to close down what there was of the dodgy dealing so Lauren and I went legit with the minicab business and I finally got my life back,"said the hawk-faced woman, blowing a cloud of smoke in the air in a contemplative fashion. "I ended up believing that there are decent screws around and I can talk to them. This is where you come in. I think I can help you out."

DI Martin was overwhelmed by the note of sweet tenderness in Yvonne's voice,something she had never expected to find from this hard case. Ros and Jenny had clearly worked to good effect in talking to Shirley in making this very kind woman who got embarrassed by the reflection of her goodness. She was for real and she knew that she'd learn everything that this smart woman knew. As Yvonne relaxed back in her chair, she saw Lauren smiling on at the two women who were having a comfortable heart to heart conversation.

In another part of London, a slight figure dressed in scruffy khaki military type trousers was rifling through drawers in just the sort of expensively furnished flat that was crying out to leave spare money around for when it was needed. He was cursing to himself as to how come his mother didn't leave any ready money he could borrow off her. Finally, having left a series of rifled drawers behind him, assorted belongings having dropped out onto the floor, he turned to the bedside drawer. He didn't find what he was looking for but he did find a rubber object with various attachments to it. A slow sneer spread across his face when he figured out what sexual object this resembled. This was something his dad ought to know about, he considered in an unusually prim display of mixed morality. The whole thing was disgusting, he considered, and something that she wouldn't want him knowing about. In fact, he figured out that his mother would be more reasonable and helpful instead of being that tight-arsed bitch that he knew her to be. He was wondering if he'd slip out now or carry on nosing around as he really, really did need a was hovering in a state of indecision when his choice was made for him. 

"What the hell do you mean going through my drawers? How the hell did you get into the flat?" cracked out a voice behind him in that outraged maternal tones that had always made him feel bad about himself.

"So what's with this, mum? So that's what you get up to in your spare time."

"It's none of your business, Ross," that voice retorted even though a slight flush of embarrassment spread across his mother's cheeks, something that he noticed and might turn to his advantage. "You've no right invading my privacy- and Beth's either."

"Don't let him get to you, sweetheart," the other woman said, squeezing his mother's hand. Instantly the young man saw red. She was the one who had taken his mother away from him and perverted her. What right had she got to look as if she owned the world with all her fancy perfume and clothes? On the other hand, Karen felt stronger, wrapped up her lover's strong sympathy around squeezed Beth's slim fingers back, glaring defiantly at her son's disapproval.

"So you're going in for sex toys these 's like everything I've known about you."

"What you're holding in your hands is called a dildo or a strap on Ross," Karen said at last in cold, controlled tones. "There are many ways that women express their love for each other in emotional and physical a woman doesn't have naturally, she can go out and get and believe me, that is precious and doesn't want your grubby hands on it. Just put it down this instant."

Feeling the argument slip out of his hands, Ross did the same with the strap-on he was holding. Beth scooped it up and placed it safely in a draw.

"So that's where my spare key went to. You stole it .Give it me back at once or I call the police."

"You wouldn't dare," Ross replied, trying his final best to make his mother feel ridiculous.

"Just try me," Karen said slowly and firmly with all the confidence in the world. "I'm an ordinary law abiding citizen in case you don't know."

"You really don't remember rejecting me when I had trouble at university. 'I've got a whole load of crap on my hands without wiping your arse, like a whole bloody prison load.' That's what you said and you started all my troubles. I need your help as I'm struggling to keep my head above water. I wouldn't talk this way if it weren't true," Ross said in that self- pitying way that enticed her to try and mother this motherless child, just as she'd done for successive ex-partners, Fenner included. That realisation made Karen feel sick to the pit of her stomach. She'd given way so many times after vowing to herself not to do so.

"Just get out and don't come back,"Karen snapped. She could feel herself shaking all once she'd felt this mental umbilical cord that had tied her to him no matter where either of them were, now she couldn't wait to get him out of the flat. The realisation of these feelings hurt her inside.

Ross stalked out of the room, banged the key on the side and slammed the door. Beth's outstretched arms gathered in her poor lover as she collapsed into her arms. It was only after a couple of minutes that the shocking thought occurred to her that they'd caught her son in the act of trying to rob them.


	43. Chapter 43

**Scene Forty-Three**

After the Annual General Meeting, there was considerable debate at all levels as to how much leverage, formal and informal, the organisation had on government policy. Nikki wasn't on the management board but she was kept well informed by Paul Armstrong who knew better than to keep secrets from his subordinate except for strictly confidential personell matters.

"You mean you really trust me to speak up for you?" Paul asked Nikki one day as they caught wind of deliberations amongst the Home Office that there might be a change in policy. "That's a real act of faith in me."

"I'm used to fighting my own fights and I'm not used to being away from the action but I know that you being there might as well be me."

"Despite Mr Whatsisname Minister's mealy-mouthes words at the AGM, the hatchet man in charge of the Home Office will carry on with his 'lock 'em up' mantra. Still you've heard of him via your mate, the judge who made more sense than all the speakers I've ever heard put together. I've just got a nasty feeling of what's in the air."

"God I hope what you fear won't happen," Nikki replied, a look of concern spreading across her face. "I know better than to doubt your intuition."

Finally, a certain brown envelope came through the post. Paul Williams ran his eye rapidly over the contents, grabbed it in his hand and smashed it against his desk as his blood pressure rose rapidly with anger. Only when he had calmed down did Paul Armstrong reflect bitterly to himself that the sole benefit of contacts with the government meant that they were entrusted a couple of days before release to the public of the latest announcement of changes in prison policies. The only slight drawback was that the notice had a press embargo on it. In other words, they were publicly gagged and the only advantage was in gaining time to make a considered response. He would ensure there would be one all right. Immediately, he got cracking on getting authority for dtrafting a response to run past the Director.

The first Nikki knew of it was when Paul strode into her office in a purposeful way. Nikki stopped what she was doing and started reading the press statement and her own blood pressure started rising rapidly.

"Right, Nikki. I've been entrusted with doing a response to Neil Haughton's latest press statement. I want you to stop what you're doing and cast your eye over this draft response to this latest Home Office nonsence if I can borrow your computer."

Nikki courteously grabbed a spare chair for her boss and moved sideways, watching intently as Paul rattled out the following on a brand new word document.

**'Statement by the Howard League for Penal Reform on the changes to the criminal justice system announced today by the Home Secretary' **

"Once again we see a Home Secretary responding to a crisis and not looking at the long term impacts his proposals will have for the criminal justice and penal systems. Locking more men, women and children up for longer cannot be considered a serious, measured response to protecting and reassuring the public.

In the space of six months the Government appears to have completely reversed its position, from a sensible recognition that prison doesn't work to one where it decides to waste more taxpayers money by building more prisons.

The best way to ease overcrowding in prison is not to build more prisons, which would themselves rapidly become as overcrowded as those they were built to relieve. The answer is to reduce the number of people being inappropriately sentenced to prison custody. Prison is supposed to be the ultimate sanction for those who pose a risk to the public. For the remainder, community sentences - which do actually cut crime - are the far better option, helping a person to take responsibility for their offence and put something back into the community.

Neil Haughton talks about re-balancing the system in favour of victims, but when 67% of those released from prison are reconvicted within two years, his proposals will merely create further victims of crime."

With a satisfied smile on his face, Paul Williams rattled out the last lines as he balanced out the more stinging phrases against a bit of potted prison sociology that even an ignoramus shouldn't be capable of misunderstanding and turned round to canvass Nikki's views.

"That is spot on, Paul. I can see myself walking the corridors of Larkhall as I'm reading this article. You don't pull any punches. I've just had a thought if it's possible," Nikki added as her mind investigated fresh possibilities in a lateral fashion.

"Come on, spit it out Nikki."

"Is it possible to run this draft past Kristine Thorne? After all, her speciality is prison education and just how possible will that be if existing prisons are crammed full and more prisons are being built? You know how well informed she is and how she'll get on the case. Of course, I know you might want to clear it with the Director first," she offered in a tentative fashion.

"You phone her up first and get her e mail address and I'll send it. I know what I'm doing," Paul answered in quietly authoritative tones. Nikki reached for the phone

Meanwhile Jules' ears were standing up like stalks and he thrashed his tail around while the cause of his canine disquiet was Kristine shouting in anger after her screenreader had relayed Neil Haughton's press release which the search prompt had picked up. She did feel a certain residual satisfaction that the designers of the website weren't bone headed enough to dream up some fancy graphic display which guaranteed to screw up her screenreader but she wasn't disposed to be gracious at the moment. At that moment, she felt more of a venomous dislike of the whole machinery of government, excepting of course a certain very attractive judge who had most certainly satisfied her discerning taste. However, her way of operating was that anyone connected with the government was guilty until proven innocent. Just as her temper started to fade, the phone rang. With a certain element of irritation, she reached for the phone and greeted the unknown caller with less of her normal hospitality than normal.

"You don't need to tell me, Kristine. You've read the Home Office statement on how to screw up the system in one easy go," Nikki replied with her habitual touch of irony.

"I'm sorry, Nikki. I'm in serious danger of taking my temper out on some random caller. You've obviously not phoned me up to pass the time of day."

"Got it in one. Paul has asked me if you'd be interested in running our draft response past you. It isn't designed to flatter the government. Who knows, it might cheer you up."

"I want it, please, urgently," Kristine said in a flatteringly inquisitive fashion. "If nothing else, it will make me mark my student's compositions without being too scathing."

Nikki laughed gently at this little endearing trait in her friend's personality which felt comfortable. She nodded to Paul, moved over to her computer and tapped in

"K." onto the saved document. She watched with satisfaction as it disappeared into the 'out' box and then all the way down the phoneline to her friend's room way up high in the main University of London enjoyed this little bit of a conspiracy just as much as Paul did. .

Five minutes later, the phone rang and a grinning Nikki picked up the phone as Paul gestured to her to take the call.

"I love it Nikki," Kristine exclaimed enthusiastically and without any preamble. "It has just the sort of bite that's needed. Was it you or Paul who wrote that? It must be somebody who has a bit of backbone."

"It's all Paul's handiwork. I can't claim any credit for it. Just once in my life, I've been on the sidelines offering moral support for someone who's going to fight to get that out."

"He will," Kristine's clear carrying voice answered and Nikki did a 'thumbs up' gestrure to Paul whose smile clearly registered the very valued compliment. "You're lucky to have a boss with some backbone about him. He's such a total contrast to that wanker of a Home Secretary who I've seen on the television, trying to sound all dominant and masterful, as if he's in control of the situation but his voice gives him away. He's got as much backbone as a used condom."

Nikki promptly fell off the chair and rolled on the floor in a helpless attack of the giggles while Paul laughed his head off. It was only a little later that Paul picked up the phone that Nikki had dropped and, natural courtesy kicking in while trying to stifle his laughter, he attempted to continue the conversation.

"Paul Armstrong here. You've certainly cheered us up. Where were you when we needed you earlier? We were both in a throat-slitting mood. So how come you're such an expert on our bloody wonderful Home Secretary? I'm curious to know."

"I met his ex- George Channing at your AGM. Women talk, you know," Kristine said serenely. This guy fitted in seamlessly to continue the conversation she'd had with Nikki and his well-spoken tones certainly appealed to Kristine's taste.

"I'm bloody glad the 'old girls' network is on my side rather than against me or is it the other way round?" Paul replied with equal aplomb.

"You understand perfectly, Paul. And now, I'd better get composing my response and make it as good as yours. Mister Man is also wanting my attention too," came the warm-hearted reply as she felt a canine head nuzzling up against her leg and heard a whimpering sound that she knew Jules thought was cute.

Sure enough, there was a loud explosion of anger from the fastness of the Home Office as the Howard league of Penal Reform press statement was covered in the discreet depths of the Times and Daily Telegraph which, appearing in such a measured context, reeked of an unusual double punch, Neil Haughton grasped an impertinent article in an academic journal by a certain Ms Kristine Thorne that airily suggested that hard won taxpayers money should be spent in mollycoddling, soft liberal education classes and threw around a few statistics that flew in the face of accepted wisdom. After all, weren't the records of police crimes moving steadily downwards as a result of his 'get tough policies?

"I can't believe it," Neil Haughton shouted, his fist raised as the Permanent Secretary, Sir Percy Thrower huffed and puffed in sympathy with him. "This is getting worse and worse. I almost wished we were back in the days of trade union militancy. at least our enemies were in the one place where we could deal with them. This is like some creeping disease, spreading into areas of society that we thought were safe. There's a creeping culture of disrespect that's spreading through society. Who knows where it will stop?"

Neil Haughton strode peremptorily into the Lord Chancellor's Department eager to buttonhole Sir Ian. After all, he was the convenient whipping boy who would bear responsibility for this latest fiasco. It was Deed's rabble rousing speech and the LCD failure to keep him in check that was to blame after Sir Percy had adroitly pointed it out to him. Besides, in the cutthroat world at the top of the civil service, there were those who were making their mark and had sound reputations and there were those who were past their best who were due to be sidelined. Being a career civil servant was an unsentimental business just as much as in politics.

to Neil Haughton's surprise, he was greeted by Lawrence James's toneless voice when he opened the door. He had expected Sir Ian to be there, complete with a suggestion of a nervous twitch which he was apt to display in recent months when he'd bumped into him. Immediately, there was something subtly different about the man's manner, a suggestion of greater confidence and assertiveness. Somehow, when both men were together, it was Sir Ian on whom he'd focussed while Lawrence James tended to fade into the background, complete with his writing pad to take down minutes. Now, he occupied centre stage while a slim young man deferred to him. He had a pink complexion, short fair hair and immaculately tailored blue suit and was clearly the assistant.

"No Sir Ian?" Neil Haughton enquired.

"Sir Ian is on an extended holiday," Lawrence James said in unusually discreet tones. "It all happened very suddenly and so I offered to step into the breach and my junior came with me. Obviously, I'm just holding the fort for the time being. I've had to do what seems right in the grand scheme of things."

Neil Haughton needed to ask no more questions as to how the land lay. He'd seen this sort of thing before. Of course, his time was precious and they needed to get down to business.

"I take it you're up to speed on the latest calamitous publicity about the prison system, Lawrence. We want a damage limitation strategy," Neil Haughton demanded brusquely.

"As it happens, I have a strategy that I'd devised which I was waiting for the right time to consider for a public airing. We need to counter the propoganda work of these left wing extremists more forcefully and more directly. It goes like this..." Lawrence James started to say in that conspiratorial way that only the rich and powerful could relate to. Neil Haughton listened eagerly to what this man had to say and he had to admit it that it all sounded very convincing.

Meanwhile, the machinery of government was moving forward in its leisurely fashion in another direction. Alice picked up the phone at work in her most professional fashion, asking what she could do for the caller in her professional capacity or so her manner suggested.

"I'm Peter Walker of Ravenscroft and Walker," the polite voice intoned in her ear."This isn't about your normal line of business.I wanted to call you up to have a preliminary chat about you acting as witness for the defence for Rebecca Elliott.I'm her defence solicitor."

"Oh yes,"Alice said in a halting fashion."I'd almost forgotten about it. That's to say I remember the details but I've been so busy that I'd pushed it to the back of my mind."

"Would you spare me the time to come over to my office if that's convenient?"

"I might as well do it now if that's all right,"decided Alice. She wanted to talk while the flow of thoughts had come back to her. "I've just got to square it with my boss first if that's all right with you."

An hour later, Alice was in Peter Walker's neat unpretentious office and rapidly ran over the details of the case in her best professional had had the details of the police report before him and it was obvious that there were two distinct problems concerning the evidence of this otherwise very presentable witness. For a start, it was arguable that this wounding was 'six of one and a half dozen of the other' and the other was the past relationship between his client and this witness and her obvious ambivalent feelings for his client. He put his pen down and looked Alice Swinburne straight in the eye.

"It's obvious to me that you and Ms Elliott have history, perhaps not totally resolved at that. I don't want to go further into a personal area but there's one thing I urge on you and that is that you are not allowed to discuss evidence you might present with the witness

"Surely it's not forbidden to offer Becky some moral support? She could do with everything she could get?" protested Alice with memories of the way Sally-Anne, Helen, Karen and Nikki had been given such support.

"You're not just a friend but a key witness to the crime. That changes everything. Surely it's obvious. the last thing the defence barrister wants is any accusation thrown at him that you've 'cooked up a story' to get your friend off the hook. In that case, there could be very serious consequences, I promise you."

Alice said no more but carried on with the discussion. She was starting to find the whole situation very oppressive and wanted to get away as soon as she could. As the door shut after her, Peter Walker shook his head, having distinct misgivings about the case. He could do no more than warn the woman against any well-meant foolishness.


	44. Chapter 44

**Scene Forty-Four **

As DI Martin finally drove home after a long talk with Yvonne Atkins, she felt exhausted by the volume of information that she'd absorbed but with a feeling of a job well satisfied, the pleasure of encountering a remarkably astute woman who'd looked right into her soul and the moral satisfaction that she'd used this woman for her own ends. As soon as she'd vocalised the question in her own mind, as she braked sharply to stop for the traffic lights, she knew that this was an impossibility. Now she knew that Yvonne Atkins had only been waiting for the right copper to have come along for her to spill the information. DI Sullivan might have hectored and tried to browbeat her in giving up the information and been greeted by a glaring solid wall of defiance absolutely nothing to show for it.

Normally, she avoided like the plague talking about work when she got home with her partner DCI Taylor as there were times when either of them could be called out on some emergency. When both of them were in on a Friday night, they curled up together on the wide settee together, accompanied by soothing music, lights turned down low and they avoided talking about work like the plague. For one, they had the opportunity to pick up the phone and talk at work but this is where they kept their official identities, along with the smart blue jacket, the stiff shirt and the business length blue skirt. If holding down their jobs meant adopting business drag, so be it especially when they knew that it gave them that necessary edge in holding down their authority. When they were at home, they let their hair down and became Joy and Maureen once again. At eight-o-clock on a Friday evening, a bottle of chilled wine lay on the mahogany drinks stand, two glasses with lipstick prints on the rim while they lay, dressed in soft and yielding clothes, their hair tousled, letting the alcohol percolate through their systems and throwing away their official identities.

However, this night was an Martin knew that she couldn't put her latest revelation to bed and fully become Joy again until she told DCI Taylor what she knew.

"I hate to bring up work, Maureen but I can't get this out of my mind," Maureen said, coaxingly into her partner's ear. Her subordinates would have been surprised to hear her talk this way not to say DI Sullivan. They supposed that DI Taylor went into her wardrobe on Friday nights, complete with smart uniform, only to be let out on Monday mornings.

"You mean you want right, get it over with but you've got some making up to do," mock scolded Maureen in return, resisting the temptation to slide her fingers into areas that her lover liked best. She mentally drew herself to attention.

"You've been bothered how drugs are being smuggled into our patch in large quantities but you've never laid your hands on the warehouse, the Mr Big who's come onto your turf. Right?"

"Got it in one, DI Taylor.I'm running out of options though my lot don't know how I feel."

"I've been put in touch with Charlie Atkins' widow, Yvonne Atkins and had a long hear to heart with her. I reckon she's come up with the answer."

"Jesus, how in hell did you get her to talk. She's not just Mrs Charlie Atkins but there are plenty of villains out there that wouldn't dare to cross her. She's the last to want to talk with the filth."

"She's changed. She told me out of the goodness of her heart, something that she's spent a lifetime hiding from herself. I know that what she's saying is for real. I talked with Lauren Atkins as well, someone who's a chip off the old block and very close to her mother.A lot of the information came from her."

"So what's the answer, supercop?" DCI Taylor asked with an obvious sense of affection and respect for that very intelligent and resourceful police officer.

"There is no Mr Big and central operation, at least not in the smack is being taken by courier from outside London to the middlemen. We've even got the lead on the busiest courier and the London address she lived at before she moved out to the suburbs."

"So how did Yvonne Atkins come to know this woman?" DCI Taylor enquired.

"Her daughter Lauren ran the minicab business but was still operating the drugs business in a small scale way up till August when Yvonne Atkins came out of Larkhall. She was one of the dealers who Lauren worked with and this explains how come we know quite a bit about her. Yvonne made Lauren jack in that side of the business and they're running the minicab business full 've a pretty shrewd idea that she's set up on her own or with others we've not tracked down yet. I treat very seriously an Atkins hunch as much as your own."

"So, wonderful woman of mine, why should they talk to you of all people?" Maureen enquired, looking at her partner's profile as the soft light etched in the highlights and left the soft shadows as her partner's soft voice wove in a pattern of logic that made absolute sense.

"Because, darling,"Joy said, getting towards the end of her story which the telling of it slotted all the more surely into place, "they know that deep down, you are as soft as they are- and for real. They know bloody well that I'd be telling tales."

With those words, Joy felt released at last and drew her lover down into the depth of the settee and gave her lover a soft, long deep kiss, feeling her softness and responsiveness on the magical release of a Friday night in.

Jo Mills became aware that her hedonistic private lifestyle was posing problems in holding down her daytime job. She knew that she'd badly handled the court case the day she broke up with John and she sensed that she was starting to have a run of cases where she was definitely off form. She was starting to get questioning looks from judges she appeared before and other barristers who had been used to the steel witted Jo Mills of old who gave any barrister a good run for her money and who'd won some landmark civil rights trials. They noted a coolness and sense of distance between her and George and John that had replaced their easy friendship and she was becoming something of a loner in legal circles. By contrast, George's star was shining yet at the same time, her partnership with Alice prevented any gossip that George and John were an item. Most of all, Jo was feeling perpetually worn out and tired and only sheer doggedness kept her up to at least a substandard level.

"Mel darling," Jo said coaxingly as she lay alongside her lover on Friday night, her fingers delicately traced the pattern of her lover's backbone. "I wonder if we can take things easy this weekend. I really loved it a couple of weeks ago when we woke up late and didn't move out of bed except for knocking up snacks and ordering a takeaway."

"Nice idea babes but I've got places to go to, people to see. You know how it gets sometimes same as when you're burning the midnight oil on one of your cases," Mel said in her lighthearted, devil may care manner.

"Oh," Jo said simply. She had never thought what Mel might be up to in the hours when they weren't together.

"But we're here together now," Mel said sexily, running the fingers of her hand delicately across her lover's face."I really live for these Friday nights."

Jo's heart leapt inside her as she gazed in rapture at the beauty of her lover's face. She felt like nothing on earth when she was gloriously naked as was her lover and she rubbed her thigh against , it wasn't for Mel to always take the initiative as Jo moved on top of the woman she loved and kissed her hungrily, tasting the wine that they'd drunk earlier on. She pushed into her lover and felt Mel's equally physical need for her as their legs became loved the feel of their movement against each other and it was moments of physical desire like this that made everything worthwhile in her life.

Saturday morning in Mel's bedroom always felt like a real awakening. Jo loved the lazy feeling of letting half an eyelid opening, in a blissful state between dream and awakening and the feeling of her lover's arm wrapped around her and seeing her black tousled hair and her tender face pressed against the pillow. Sometimes, her leg would be boldly curled around her as it was this morning, sometimes not. This was a complete change in the habit of a lifetime as in the past, she's always faced away from her partner, dressed in a sensible back on it, she never knew why she had adopted certain personal habits. It was something she'd never questioned, assuming it was an essential part of her being. A smile spread across Jo's face when she savoured the delicious thought that this was herself allowed to run free to be whom she really weanted to be. She gently moved in closer to her lover and rested her hand gently so not to wake her up. Experience taught her already that Mel woke up later than she did.

Finally, Jo knew when Mel woke up when she felt her body move against her and utter a completely self-satisfied sigh of pleasure. Jo kissed her gently on her cheek and felt her nipples stiffening.

"I never used to go in for early morning sex," Jo murmured softly into her lover's ear, savouring every syllable.

"And now it's taken me how to show you a really good time, just how a woman should be loved. God, I wonder how you've managed all these years, babes," Mel answered in those husky tones that spoke of just waking up and sounded so sweet in Jo's ears. Already, she slid on top of Jo with a sudden strength that showed her own lusts were kicking in.

"That's why I'm making up for lost time,"came Jo's answer as she arched in pleasure feeling Mel's lips capturing her left this woman is insatiable, Jo thought blissfully, as she felt her lover's lips and tongue work wonders for her but then, so Am I, she thought as she smiled at moments of impure thoughts which stole in on her even though she was scrutinising the latest case awaiting her attention. This wasn't sex fantasies but was the real thing as she felt her lover move down her body and her thighs opened in anticipation even before Mel had got there.

As they felt thirsty for a coffee and toast, Jo offered to do the honours, flinging on her shirt in a token effort at modesty, not bothering anymore to become her buttoned up weekday self. She knew that this was something Mel liked and she enjoyed her feasting her eyes on her. She pottered away in the kitchen, ignoring the untidiness at one time she would have tut tutted at. It's only because she wasn't getting the right kind of sex and tender loving care, Jo thought to herself in an amused fashion. Presently her bare feet padded lightly up the staircase and, right in front of her, was the door to the spare bedroom that she'd idly noticed. It was always tight shut for reasons she'd never asked about. That was a curious choice for someone whose daytime job was devoted to the assembly of facts, delving into the details of human life and to always questioning whatever she faced. It was her weekday necessity, she reasoned, and one which she could afford to let slip. Nevertheless, she voiced the casual question in her mind.

"I feel I know everything about your life, darling and I feel that this is home but I've never been into that room."

"I wouldn't bother, babes. That's the junkroom with all the assorted crap I've collected over the years that I couldn't find a home for but couldn't throw out. If you go into there you'll only injure yourself," Mel answered with a shade more forcefulness than Jo had heard her use before.

"I was only curious. It doesn't matter anyway," Jo answered softly as she turned off the switch of her daytime instincts.

"I'm dying for my early morning coffee. You're looking overdressed anyway," Mel smirked. Jo put the tray of toast and coffee down on the side, nonchalently threw aside her shirt and slid back into bed. Saturday morning breakfast was always a sensual delight to them both. It was always an exquisite sensation how far they could eat and drink while feeling each other up until their desires finally overcame them.

On Sunday morning, Jo was back in her house. She preoccupied herself by catching up with some housework, energetically hoovering the carpets, chucking out food from her fridge and freezer that was way past its sell by date and vigorously dusting and polishing everywhere. This was her home, the place where she'd moved with her husband years ago, the place where she'd brought up her children. there were still some toys that had lain forgotten in the cupboards and posters of transient pop stars and female models, paper curling at the edges. Everything looked prim and proper in its place, where it had always been as she was a woman with order in her life. She also remembered ensuring that her husband was well looked after while she slipped out with a clandestine affair with John Deed, one which had resulted in him driving her to the clinic to have the abortion which had also killed off the affair and all its intensity. She shook her head as she shook out the duster out the back door and watched the particles float in the air and drop on the grass. She shook her head as she wondered looking at a younger version of herself that took such matters so seriously, tearing her heart at choosing between her husband, that good man and John deed who was her demon lover. It was strange how life changed everything. She was now the lover of a gorgeous woman, doing things that would have shocked her younger self. That woman had been bound down by so many responsibilities and couldn't begin to think that there were alternatives.

She sat down and put on a soothing CD. She felt incomplete. She knew that she would rather be rolling in physical ecstacy with her lover rather than wearing her habitual sensible shirt. Nevertheless, she was tired and after setting her house to rights, she lay down on the settee. Perhaps she could do with a rest and recharge her batteries. She wondered what her darling Mel was doing right now. It wouldn't be too long before she would see her again.

As it happened, Mel had gone round the back of her house to the shed where she kept her motorbike. She'd gone up to London and placed a wad of notes down on the counter for a good durable machine. She made sure that everything was safe and secure and wheeled up the side of the house and looked warily up and down the street. It was Sunday morning and all the good people of this hick town didn't want their mornings disturbed so she made sure her bike didn't kick up too much of a row. She pulled up the zip of her jacket as even a fine December morning could get chilly. She turned the bike down the road and was off into the distance.


	45. Chapter 45

**Scene Forty-Five**

No matter how much Alice tried to disguise it from herself, a subterranean thought had kept niggling away under the surface that she found it impossible to totally ignore, especially after her uncomfortable interview with Becky's defence solicitor and his delicately phrased questioning of her professionalism. As the days rolled on, her life with George was tranquil enough but she was more than ever aware of how Becky might be faring right now. She realised that this instinctive sympathy for others' suffering could not be denied and she couldn't in all conscience just coldly ignore it and that was what mattered most in she faced the prospect of being asked hard questions when she gave evidence , Becky was in an infinitely worse situation of being accused of grievous bodily harm and facing her whole lifestyle being opened up to legal scrutiny. She knew enough of the trials she'd witnessed just how searching the questions could matter how badly Becky had behaved, Alice could not in all good conscience wish that on her. In the meantime, she dithered and delayed and she otherwise devoted her life to the self assured George who knew her own mind, had definite views but didn't want people falling at her feet as the Angel of nothing else, George kept her slim feet firmly planted on the ground and had no time for games, something Alice deeply related to and was in love was all very confusing, emotionally speaking.

George and Alice popped round one evening to Nikki and Helen's flat after they'd come back from the antenatal clinic and were glad to be out of the rain that had bucketed down the moment they stepped out of George's car. While the squalls briefly blasted at them, it felt somehow good to be sheltering under the one umbrella, or so George felt as Alice, being taller, gallantly sheltered them. Helen opened the door and, at six months, the pregnancy was very noticeable on her and she clearly relished every moment of it.

"Come in and have a cup of tea," Nikki exclaimed in the background much as her mother might have behaved while Helen kissed Alice, then George.

"I'd better be careful how close I get to you," George said wittily. "I think I remember enough of when I was carrying Charlie if I'm prodded enough."

"You weren't the Idealised Mother then," Helen said, her eyes twinkling.

"Indeed I wasn't," exclaimed George, carefully steering her memories towards a positive outcome."I cursed and I swore and called John every name in the English Dictionary and doing ante natal exercised and being pushed and prodded during all kind of tests by women in white coats wasn't my cup of tea. Still, it all happens for the best as Charlie is now the dutiful hard-working daughter after sowing her wild oats in all manner of political crazes."

**"**That's where weve come from now. Helen's classified as a young mother and with all this IVF, they're not taking any chances. At any rate, we've passed the twenty week's scan to check for abnormalities and, so far, so good,"Nikki beamed, a whole souled smile on her face as she called out loudly from the kitchen making tea for them all."

"Still, we're not so self centred to turn away from our normal conversation and bore you stiff about babies and and I made a vow that, while we're not going to shut up about our happy news, we do want to talk about the world outside our the weight off your feet."

"It's nice to settle down after the tumult of past experiences,"George observed with a look that aimed to include them all. "There's nothing wrong about the 'all ends happily after' epilogue though I used to think of it too frightfully sickly sweet for my taste."

There was a murmur of agreement but in Alice's depths, a discordant note was struck However, she laughed along with the others.

Finally, Alice could bear the tension no longer. She was in a hurry so she hadn't got time to tell George, and she managed to squeeze in some time on her rounds to call in on Becky.

As soon as Alice went off the beaten path from where her duties took her, she had this unsettling feeling of illegality. She vowed to herself that she wouldn't claim more than the motor mileage she would otherwise have claimed and she wouldn't seek a repetition of the visit to Mrs Elliott that had landed her in her present predicament. In such a frame of mind, she knocked timidly on Becky's front door. It opened and let in the gaping darkness which a thin and unkempt looking woman filled. With a shock, Alice realised that this was Becky.

"Alice, thank God you're here. You're the answer to my prayers. I've been going out of my mind counting the days to the trial and nothing to think about except ..maybe after all we've been through, you'd come and rescue me. Come in, come in."

Her ingrained social worker instinct made her enter the flat. The front living room was a wreck with bottles of wine, lager and assorted clothing strewn everywhere not to mention the reek of stale alcohol. Alice was horrified how far down she had sunk not that she hadn't seen such scenes before in her life. It's just that it hadn't touched her so closely and personally before.

"What's happened to you? Isn't there someone looking after you?"Alice stammered only to be greeted by some sort of indefinable sound emanating from the other room. It took Alice a while to decipher the stream of slurred sound as a very very drunken woman.

"Becky, let's split this bottle of wine and come back to bed," it finally said, articulating words against the odds of them being heard. It horrified Alice that her ex-lover's alcoholism had grown to the point of taking over even at a moment like this.

"What about the trial, Becky?"Alice urged, her memories of past court cases coming back to her mind. She hadn't been closely involved as her friends had been in their various trials but she tried to summon up memories of trials she'd witnessed. The trouble was that it was one thing to watch how experts like Jo and George operated. It was quite another thing to be the one in charge and Alice tried to wing it as best she could. "You've got to work out what you're going to say, what started it off. You picked up the knife instinctively to defend yourself against your mother. You and I know how dangerous she have to stick to the same story that I'm going to tell.I care about you but you have to be strong for yourself."

That was the start of a nightmare couple of hours after which Alice gave up in despair after a series of ricochetting conversations between the three of them. Alice's efforts in grabbing Becky's wandering attention was continually interrupted by her drunken partner tempting her to become equally stupid drunk as she was. Even when she momentarily engaged Becky's attention and tried to get her to come up with a credible story that a jury might believe and tie in with Alice's clear headed version, her ex-lover was manic in jumping from one point to another in no particular order and end up in talking at length about her feelings, how she couldn't cope with the thought of being shut up in prison miles from anywhere where there was no one around who cared for her. It was at that point that her tiresome partner would break into the conversation loudly coming up with all sorts of irrelevant rubbish. Finally, Alice looked at her watch and noticed with horror that it was a quarter to eight. Feeling that she had become totally peripheral and starting to worry about George, she made a shamefaced exit and went back to her car. It was a cold pitch-black night, spitting down with rain but the bleak inhospitable night felt more comfortable than the madhouse she had just left. Without turning on her mobile, she sped off down the road to the safety and security of hers and George's house and let herself in.

George had been used to Alice coming in at irregular hours thanks to the nature of her job but always phoned in when she was likely to be late so that George could cook the dinner. This time, the hours ticked away and still no response on her mobile which was switched off and a mixture of annoyance and concern swilled around in George's emotional system till she heard the door open. By then, the dinner had been ruined.

"What on earth happened to you Alice? Why on earth are you smelling like a brewery?" George demanded, the words coming out more aggressively than she'd intended.

"Only one of my more troublesome clients. She and her friend had been acting up. It wasn't what I'd been led to believe," Alice said looking away from George's direct gaze. She'd been worrying how George would react to her visiting Becky so she decided to embellish her story.

George picked up something not quite right about Alice's manner. She'd lived with her for long enough to know her little habits. Her mind cast out for the likeliest possible explanation for the unusual combination of facts and the smell of cheap lager led her to the horrid suspicion who she'd been seeing.

"You've been visiting Becky, haven't you," George said as a flat statement in ominously quiet tones.

"All right so I did," Alice said in an agitated fashion, not wanting to dwell on the hellish last few hours. She feverishly sought the nearest justification to hand. "I know what she's like when she's under stress with the trial coming on and wanted to talk over what we'd say when we came to give evidence. I tried to get her to concentrate but I didn't get very far."

"You did what?" exclaimed George as her anger blazed up, clean missing the partner's world weary sense of futility in her partner's voice. All she realised was just how much suppressed emotion she'd been bottling up as Becky had kept reappearing just when she had thought that Alice had learnt the lesson and saying she had. As everything boiled over, she latched onto what was nearest and safest for her.

"What on earth do you think you were doing, Alice. I thought you knew well enough that you and Becky shouldn't have talked with each other about the wounding before the court hearing."

"I don't see what I've done wrong George," Alice retaliated, the accumulated stress starting to get to her. "Didn't Nikki and Helen support Sally-Anne and Karen and especially each other when Helen was accused of breaking the Official Secrets Act?"

George rolled her eyes skyward and summoned up a degree of self restraint as she sought to put the mind straight of this dreadfully well meaning woman who just didn't get wasn't worth saying how Nikki and Helen played things very carefully all the time Helen was coming up to trial and giving evidence in court. At most any discussion took place within the presence of either Claire Walker or Jo or herself or some such combination.

"Hadn't you realised how your evidence could be turned around so easily, that you could so easily shape up as a prosecution witness as much as a defence witness? Can't you see that any halfway decent barrister will worm out the fact that you and Becky have history and use your tete a tete to crucify you and discredit your evidence?"

"It's because I've seen Becky at all. That's why you're angry with me," blurted out Alice very foolishly. It shifted the whole axis of debate onto an emotional level.

"And you know why?"George shouted, an unexpected tremor in her voice as she let everything pour out in one solid stream of words. "If you let her drag you into her world, she'll drag you down and down and down. Every time you go round to see her, she messes around with your head so you promise you won't ever go round again- till the next time. Remember the time you threw some crockery at the wall after the last time you visited her. You can't seem to get that frightful woman out of your system no matter what she's done and I can't stand being the competition. I've had enough. I'm going out."

"But wait," protested Alice as it started to cross her mind that George had been her security that she'd taken for granted. "You can't do that."

"Can't I just. Just watch me now," retorted George as she grabbed her handbag and was off out the front door leaving behind a swirl of cold air from outside.

"She's driving me mad, mad," ranted George as she stomped back and forth across the carpet in John's bedroom, clicking her fingers as John winced with horror at the reckless way that Alice had alarm bells rang in his head and every instinct as to the due process of law throbbed like raw nerve endings exposed. "I've tried to be reasonable, the understanding consort but this comes out of the blue just when I thought she'd got this Becky thing out of her system."

"'The road to Hell is paved with good intentions,'" quoted John. "That was an expression I remember my father saying to keep me on my toes but I really feel sorry for you in being haunted by this woman.

"Pour me another drink,"demanded George peremptorily. "A large Martini dry and go easy on the lemonade. Just for once in my life, I want to get fairly drunk and, after that, who knows what might happen?"

John blinked at George's sudden change of mood that suffused her last words along with the delicious smile that spread across her face. This was as clear a bold sexual proposition that he'd ever heard in his life that reminded him forcibly of happier days in their youth. John felt a strong twinge of conscience as he carefully weighed up the ethics of the situation. George and Alice were partners, something he felt was insoluble and George was untouchable. He really considered whether or not he should do the honourable thing and reason with George as to whether or not she really knew what she was doing, would she regret it in the morning. He set against this the fact that George knew exactly what she was doing and hadn't made any suggestion that this was a deeply passionate moment of love's awakening but something she needed on this night with no promise of any further commitment. He shook his head in wonder that, at this precise moment, she was standing in the shoes that he once wore, that she was the one driven mad by the inconstancy of a partner, something that he had been serially guilty of and, relatively speaking, he was the innocent party.

He went to fill up George's glass and a measure for himself as well with the curious feeling that he wasn't betraying his newly found principles despite appearances to the contrary.

Alice remained at home, pecking desultarally at the remains of the overcooked meal that George had dumped on the side. She remained frozen to the settee and emotionally devastated. It hit her hard that she lost what she most loved while pursuing a fantasy. Without George's vibrant presence, the house felt drained of energy. She hadn't the slightest idea what to do as the minutes ticked away. Finally, she summoned up the energy to phone up one of her friends to work out what the hell she should do. She opted finally for Sally-Anne as someone whose non-judgmental manner she could face when it was starting to steal over her how incredibly foolishly she had acted. She didn't dare think of what George might be doing.

Fortunately, Monday night was Sally-Anne and Trisha's quiet night. They were lying in their darkened living room, watching a DVD which Trisha loved but was not up Sally-Anne's street. When her mobile rang, she trailed her fingers through her lover's blond hair, kissed her forehead and took herself into the hallway.

"George has done what?" Sally-Anne said before the undertone of misery in Alice's voice made her sharpen up as the remaining miasma of the Hollywood love story in the living room was sharply dispersed. "Tell me what's happened. I'm here for you."

As Alice's uncertain voice trailed its way towards its conclusion, Sally-Anne made up Alice's mind in her practical way.

"It's easier to say than do, but you've no choice to sit tight and wait for George to come back as I know she will. The ball is in her court to decide what to do. I wouldn't deny that a drink or two won't help but try to settle down as best as you can. I can't believe that you cannot mean everything to George and she'll calm down and realise it but you'll need to face up properly to your ex. Take care," Sally-Anne said softly, sounding more confident than she felt.

With that, Alice finally lay down in the double bed which felt far too big to her right now.


	46. Chapter 46

**Scene Forty-Six**

John did not know how he ended sharing the same bed as George except that they'd had a lot to drink that evening. He'd been struggling to keep up with George's intake and felt rather woozier than he wanted to be while George chattered away inconsequentially. He knew that she needed to do whatever she did and what was strange and novel for him that it was George who was setting the pace in every way.

"That's better," George exclaimed with satisfaction as they left their trail of clothes behind them and found themselves in John's double bed. "You know, I really thought I'd find myself sharing some frightfully narrow single bed. Those days are far behind me, something I do not want to revisit from my youth."

"Is it me or the bed or both?" John enquired as it gradually felt more permissable to feel desire for his ex-wife whom he'd become accustomed to swearing off men for life. There was a comforting familiarity about the feel of George's little moves and her voice was the voice of a friend and not some anonymous woman he'd picked up at a bar that was nowhere particularly special.

"Definitely both," George exclaimed as she moved on top of him and kissed him. It occurred to her that the feel of John's body felt strange but distantly familiar. They'd

lived together for a number of years and, despite John going increasingly off the rails, there had been moments, in fact periods of happiness.

**"**If there's one thing that you can do for me, darling, you can make me laugh and cheer me up. You don't have to try and be fearfully witty. Besides, you were my first love, someone who swept me off my feet in your distinguished fashion," smirked George with her voice in her teasing fashion with an underlay of truth.

"That's good as my ego needs stroking," John retorted as he felt the familiar sensations and George's receptiveness as their bodies became interlocked. George felt his manhood entering into her and the pleasures she felt were curiously similar to her more tender memories of the man. Everything was as right as it could be in making love with a man and she generously decided to give John the simple pleasures he obviously felt in this unexpectedly considerate of men. It was what she needed right now and he'd been extraordinarily patient in listening to her rantings earlier on. It brought out an unexpected tenderness in her and pleasure in this considerate man.

George felt momentarily disorientated when she woke up in the dark. She couldn't see straight as her eyelids took a lot of separating. Besides, her mouth tasted dry and she felt dehydrated, as if she had been at the all time party. Her thoughts and memories were like broken pieces of china, of memories of feelings that butted up uncomfortably against each other making no particular sense. She'd been angry and drunk, heard fragments of amusing conversations and she'd finally gone to bed and made love. The trouble was she couldn't feel Alice's familiar long black hair with her searching fingertips . There was something wrong. She turned over slightly, still trying to make out her surroundings and finally, she realised that there must be a man's body lying next to her.

"What the hell?" George exclaimed to herself and the man rolled over in bed and murmured something indecipherable. George sank back thinking to herself that it was only John. She didn't want to think what she was thinking when she said that. Gradually, she started to piece together the evidence of what on earth had led to this extraordinary situation and realised that, in a crazed kind of way, it made sense. She sank back in bed and refused to make a move until she had her morning cup of tea. She definitely wanted an element of normality in her life as much as she'd ever felt that way.

They finally got up, switched the harsh light on and retrieved their scattered clothing in as dignified fashion as possible, long forgotten memories making this intimate moment of dressing feel perfectly natural. She might have gone into a blind panic but didn't. She certainly appreciated him making them a morning cup of tea. She smiled with pure pleasure as she savoured the drink. They both felt pretty exhausted and wiped out at this early hour and lay back together in the settee as George finally put her thoughts together. Her first resolution of the day was that she wanted to get back with Alice only with obvious changes in their relationship. Perhaps good might come of the madness of last night. She sensed that John felt exactly the same way and now they could have a sensible discussion and not indulge in the sort of blazing rows that had punctuated the final desintegration of their marriage.

"You know, John that last night was a one night stand but our friendship will endure anything that comes our way."

"I accept what you say. I've been used for a long time to accept what you decide what you want with your life, that is since Nikki and Helen took me in hand."

"Bless you John," George said, all the natural warmth in her personality flowing out of her, her repertoire of mannerisms cast aside. "You are a friend in a million."

"That's what I'm here for," John said. He didn't say that making love with George was the first time that his maturity had been properly engaged and that Alice should realise that she's a lucky woman.. "I suppose you want to make your exit to mend your relationship with Alice?"

"You guess perfectly correctly. I really do have to make a move though I can see there might be a problem in sneaking out and I take it you will help to sneak me out. There's just one thing, John Deed,"George said, pointing her finger at John "If I get caught by the local morals Gestapo, I will hold you personally responsible,"

"Just like the old times," John pretended to say ruefully, deceiving George not at all. "The only difference was that I used to have to climb out the window and shin down the ivy."

"You are addicted to risk and you do it superbly. You were so romantic," George retorted, a broad smirk on her face before her expression became more serious and contemplative. "Still that was then and this is now. I don't intend our night together to get back to Alice. As Oscar Wilde said, a little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal."

It was 6 in the morning, a cold dark wet day outside and John was thankful that this winter weather kept at bay early morning joggers amongst the judiciary, one of whom had once spotted a very hung over Jo Mills wearing dark glasses as she stumbled back to her car. This time, they carried their shoes as they padded barefoot down the corridor, down the staircase and out through the front doors. George sat down on the front step and slipped on her high heels while John tied up his laces. There must have been grey clouds hanging low overhead if they could see them judging by the rain falling down steadily. It would have been just another depressing winter morning but both John and George felt curiously light of spirit, as only the low wattage automatic outside light cast .

"Thanks John for listening to me. You must forgive me for unloading all my woes on you. This time around, I must admit that you have behaved like a perfect gentleman."

"That's a new one on me," John replied, resisting the temptation to laugh heartily.

"You've changed, John Deed. If you were like you used to be, I would never have slept with you but this cannot be repeated. You understand?"

"Perfectly," John said with perfect sincerity, George smiled, kissed him on the lips and ran the fifty yards in the direction of her car, the rain not dampening her spirits for a moment. She knew she would somehow deal with her return to Alice, the car journey enabling her transition to female consort if both wanted it.

George let herself into her house which seemed strangely quiet. It was before Alice was due to rise, George thought to herself but she thought that Alice might have cleared off somewhere else. Gathering her strength of purpose together, she walked quietly towards the bedroom and opened the door. There was Alice's familiar shape curled under the duvet, her long black hair trailing across the pillow. A half empty whisky bottle and glass lay on the bedside table in the half light. George hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do, to slip into bed with Alice which seemed hypocritical or wait for Alice to wake up. Luckily, the problem was solved for her.

"Is that really you, George?" came a sleepy indistinct voice from the mound.

"Yes it is, darling," George found herself saying and adding in a conventional fashion."It's a quarter past six."

"Then come into bed with me but don't talk right now."

George slipped off her clothes and slid in behind Alice, a part of her getting spiritually used to the feel of her. George really had to draw the mental curtain on her lovemaking with John last night if only they could talk their way through the situation. Something had burst apart between the two of them and George had the inkling that Alice wanted to mend fences as much as she did, judging by the way she placed George's hand against her breast.

"I don't think I'm going into work today, George.I'm going to phone in sick. I feel really hungover In any case, there's nothing in there that won't wait," Alice suddenly said out of a long sleepy silence.

"If you want to Alice, I'm not indispensible. I'll do the same. Want a coffee," George said lightly as they skirted round the delicate prospect of talking things over.

It wasn't till nine o clock than, by some unspoken process, they slipped into their dressing gowns and made their way into the living room. Even the pale light hurt their eyes.

"You might think where on earth was I all last night?" George said as her wary eyes weighed up just what Alice was thinking. "You've every right to wonder, if you still care." .

"I have never been unfaithful to you if that's what you're thinking at least physically," Alice said in an uncertain fashion. "I don't think I've been emotionally all there for you. Somehow I don't blame you for being angry. I didn't understand what you were doing."

"I was at John's. I got incredibly drunk. He put me up for the night. He's a friend in need," George said abruptly when Alice placed her finger over George's lip.

"I don't need you to tell me any more. It sounds crazy but it was better that he was looking after you than anyone else. What I want to know is am I forgiven?"

"Of course," George said simply and from the heart. She crossed the space that had separated them together with their guarded conversation and settled herself alongside Alice. Their lips met and their mouths opened for each other. They wrapped their arms around each other and exulted in the feel of each others bodies. They felt that they'd both come home from some long crazy journey and Alice's gorgeous body felt so good to her. Finally, George lay the full length of the settee against Alice, her arms wound round each other. Outside, the rain rattled against the living room window but they didn't care.

"Alice, we have to talk,"George said gently. "If I stretch my imagination far enough, I can see why you'd want to think that there isn't anyone that can't be saved, no matter how dysfunctional. It's part of your job and that's why we're different. I'm there to make the best of my client's case so that he or she will win. Beating the other barrister in court is my stock in trade and I made myself a lot of money taking on very highly paid civil cases, mostly for wealthy entrepreneurs. I've gone away from that more towards your world, a very idealistic one which I admire. At the end of the day, I have my limits and I do make the sort of judgments you fight shy of."

"All right George," Alice admitted, tenderly running her fingers around George's shapely fingers. "I suppose I have a weakness for lame ducks and I haven't properly dealt with the hold that Becky had on me. She knew only too well. I thought I was trying to do right by her in a platonic fashion. I know now that you were perfectly justified in the way you behaved last night and I mean everything."

George extracted one of her hands and tenderly stroked Alice's cheek. She knew that Alice was saying in her tactful way that she knew that George had slept with John but that, for once, burying the past when both of them worked at it. The saying, least said, soonest mended that had gone against her training as a social worker seemed to take on a new mysterious wisdom.

"I hear what you're saying but you have to understand that if someone doesn't want to save herself, she won't be saved. Karen was knocking back the whisky like nobody's business as she was facing a jail sentence possibly in the same prison where she was wing governor. Sally-Anne had been raped by that animal Gossard, driven out of her job and was addicted to tranquillisers but when the lifeline was offered, they each grabbed at it and got strong. Becky hasn't had kind of life threatening experiences and hasn't their strength. What's worse is that she's an addictive game player, even more than she's an alcoholic. You have to finally let go."

Alice didn't say a word. Everything George had said was true. She'd made wordy promises to George in the past and they'd come to nothing. She gathered George in her arms and tenderly held the woman she'd loved. At last they'd found each other.


	47. Chapter 47

**Scene Forty-Seven**

Nikki was highly aware of the frosty silence that existed between Helen and her father that their visit a year or so back had underlined when she'd experienced for the first time the man's chilly uncharitable nature. Nevertheless, she respected Helen's tough self-reliant nature that cut herself off from whatever he thought of her. She couldn't help wondering that the man was a prospective grandfather but knew nothing about it but was the last person to want Helen to beat herself up about it. She appreciated the fact that she had 'adopted' her own parents whose unique brand of flexible conservatism was good enough for her.

So it was that they set off to drive down to her parents for a weekend visit. It was something that came impulsively into their minds when they fancied a bit of country pleasures away from the pell mell rush of the metropolis. When Nikki's parent's hospitality and encouragement was added into the equation, they didn't need to think twice, knowing how amenable they were to a phone call in advance to ensure Nikki's brother wasn't around."

"You're really enjoying driving the car while I'm sticking out to here," Helen sharply observed as she adopted the increasingly straight-backed walk down the path to adapt to her changing shape

"But of course," grinned Nikki, gallantly handling their luggage."I've always been a keen driver and that was the first thing I got under my belt when I moved up to London. Nowadays, I'm happy to talk car stuff to my dad who, even at his age, has just bought a sporty Grey Audi."

"Don't I know it," smiled back Helen. "I'm strictly functional when it comes to cars. I consulted Which magazine to make sure I get value for money but you and your dad go for the look of the thing and all sorts of stuff like horse power and how many seconds it takes to get to sixty miles an hour. You tend to drive that way if I let you."

"I used to go on family outings, stuck in the back seat and I remember as a kid liking the way dad drove. Of course, my brother used to get carsick but I didn't. It always embarrassed him," Nikki said carelessly as she let the clutch out and twisted the steering to clear the four by four waggon parked in front.

They pulled into the drive, feeling in a nicely relaxed mood only to spot a black Jaguar parked in the drive next to the grey Audi, Helen raised her eyebrows and saw Nikki visibly tense as she drew her own conclusions. If there was one residual instinct their years at Larkhall Prison had left them with, it was to be prepared for trouble. Sure enough, they emerged into the living room and Nikki's brother John was in the middle of an argument with his father.

"I left you a message a week ago that we'd be coming down for the day and that is that,"John said in petulant tones. "It's too bad that Nikki's in the way."

"Now hold on a minute," Nikki interjected in controlled but forceful tones. "I phoned a couple of days ago and I'm absolutely sure that dad would never have agreed to us coming down if you'd got in first. I'd have left it a week or so if I'd been asked to."

"If you ask me, this sounds like a put-up job," chimed in Helen whose obvious advanced state of pregnancy drew a disapproving glare from John. He had vaguely heard about this latest titbit of scandal but to be confronted with it in the flesh upset his sensibilities.

"I think that we'll just have to make the most of the situation and just muck in," Nikki's father cut in with a determined effort of will, his steely tones exerting his powers of command to the maximum. "I'm not going to shove either of you out the door just to make 's also up to your mother who's got an unexpectedly large catering job on her hands and I don't want her being put upon any more than I want it."

"Helen and I will help out if mum doesn't mind us cluttering up the kitchen. I can see Jill's got her hands full with the kids," Nikki replied promptly, as the sounds of excited children's voices floated in through the back window of the living room. John was slower off the mark and, feeling the weight of opinion being mobilised, turned red in the face but shut up.

Nikki's mother entered the room at this moment and heard her husband pass the baton over to her.

"I'll manage the dinner."

The dinner ended up as one of those oppressively polite, chilly affairs which Nikki remembered only too well on one of her family's 'off' days, when her parents had felt obliged to inculcate the traditional values of their community on their children. Sitting at the very same rectangular mahogany table with the white lace tablecloth and handling the same silver service where she had sat as a little girl, dark memories threatened to overwhelm her with gloom. She looked at her sister in law, Jill Wade, constantly fussing over the table manners of her two offspring that she saw how the worst side of her upbringing was eagerly replicated by his brother and Jill's meek acceptance. It wasn't till she met her parent's eyes when she realised that they were no more happy with the situation as she and Helen was. She suddenly noticed how her father dusted off the forgotten bookshelf his selection of more irreverent stories of his naval career and how she'd never heard them before.

"Dad, I never knew that you were such a breaker of that conservative mask you've really been a bit of a rebel all along,"Nikki said at last before taking another spoonful of home made trifle.

"I've always had a mind of my own but I feel more confident as I grow older to express it. You ask anyone who's been in the forces long enough and of all the orders ever given, there are those which beg to be dodged or outright ignored if you really want to serve our 's part of unwritten history, something I didn't used to own up to," chuckled her father.

"Surely, you brought me up to believe that rules are there for a reason. It's something we've passed on to our children," John interjected, hyperconscious of what his children might be picking up on.

"I've come to believe that rules are there for the guidance of wise men and the obedience of fools,"said Nikki's father with great aplomb.

Nikki burst into a spontaneous round of applause at this brilliant shaft of reason which encapsulated the facets of her own personality and Helen laughed out loud. Smiling, Nikki's father inclined his head while her mother looked on fondly. While Jill tried to get her head around the complicated obscurity, John reddened.

It was later on that that conflict broke out again between Nikki and John just when the party were sitting in the living room, enjoying yet another round of tea and biscuits while a shaft of sunlight struggled to break through the solid grey clouds and blistering gusts of trapped inside with this sporadic conflict gave no space for escape.

"That's enough from the two of you," Nikki's father interjected sternly, trying his best not to show favouritism. Nikki suddenly reached her conclusion, the accumulation of rows down the years coming into sharp focus, not least at the aftermath of trials that she and Helen had taken part in and he was the solicitor on the wrong side as usual.

"Dad, suppose John and I go into the dining room," put in Nikki with all the quiet , purposeful strength that lay within her. "You've been fair in arbitrating between the two of us and I respect you for that but I think John and I need to finally sort out our differences in another we don't do it now, there'll never be another chance like this."

"I don't think," Nikki's father started to say but stopped when his wife laid a hand on his sleeve.

"I brought you both into this world so I'm telling you to do it," she said. Helen said nothing as she knew it was Nikki's fight and Jill had been too dominated by John for years to be capable of independent action.

Nikki strode forward with a purposeful tread followed by John's uncertain steps. He'd never been in a situation where his parents hadn't intervened and it threw him.

"Let's sit down," Nikki said, gesturing to the table after shutting the door behind her.

"You and I have been arguing all our lives since we were kids," Nikki started, trying to fight down her temper that boiled away like a high pressure boiler under lockdown. "Since I left home, it only got worse and, yes, I did cause the family problems bigtime in landing social disgrace on everyone. There's a lot I didn't see, didn't know about when I headed off to London but now it's different. Helen and I are respectable and you have to deal with it."

"Respectable?" shouted John, not believing his ears. "You and that woman are having that baby of yours in an unnatural fashion. Goodness knows what you're doing for the family reputation."

"I said respectable, John and I mean it. I'm a rising star in the Howard league for Penal Reform with judges and barristers who are personal friends of Helen and I. We want to settle down and have a family and we'll be good mothers. Our parents, bless them, accept everything about us. You're the only fly in the ointment."

"My values are what's made me and I don't deviate from them for one moment," John said with stiff-necked pride trying to keep the unmanly tremble out of his voice. Every time he argued with his sister, he got emotional and he knew how bad that was for him.

"Do you know, that's the first thing you've ever said that I agree with," Nikki said in tones of utter wonder. "It's easy to see what you're doing and we've fought cat and dog about the superficialities, my unconventional lifestyle, getting imprisoned, getting hitched to Helen, having a baby together. It's the why that interests me, that I want to know about everything."

"You ask too many questions,"John said dismissively while Nikki laughed out loud.

"It's like this John. You want so much to be the man of the family, always in command, always making decisions, dominant, masterful, successful and following in our father's footsteps. What you don't want to admit is that I'm more like our father than you'll ever be. You know how much we see eye to eye and you can't take it. We challenge each other and at the same time he's learnt to accept me as I am. He knows how I can deal with things, that I've had it hard and persevered against the odds. You've had the twenty years that I've been away to establish your position and you've abjectly failed."

"Why you...," John started to say but Nikki stopped him.

"Don't get physical with me or you'll live to regret it,"Nikki retorted, her brown eyes flaring with anger as John saw how menacing his sister could be once she'd shed her normal good manners. He couldn't help thinking what had happened to that policeman. Tension flared up in this monument to suburban respectability, the white lace tablecloth, the china cabinet, the bureau with framed photographs of a young Nikki, a young John, Nikki and Helen, John and his family and their father in a black blazer and Old School Tie and their mother in a flowered dress. For one second, Nikki felt as if she was in a dingy corridor in Larkhall Prison. Then the moment passed.

"Why don't you stop fighting the situation," Nikki said at last in a softer voice as she sensed the coiled up tensions and insecurities that was her brother. "I suspect you've got enough real problems in your life and you don't talk about it in the same way that I'd talk to Helen. You've got Jill there for a start."

"She's always expected me to be the provider. If I can't do that, I've failed," John said, revealing in one flash the frightened little boy she'd always seen in him. She knew he'd done a poor job in a series of high profile trials and Brian Cantwell, for one, showed more respect to her than to him. It was always the way.

"You'll have to stop being Mr Middle England," Nikki said softly, looking him right in the eye. "It screws people up so they can't talk and the more they can't talk, the more they get screwed have to change your ways like our parents have. It's your only hope."

Right now, John had the horrible sensation that he was going to burst into tears. That was unmanly but it started to dawn on him that he'd been living a life of quiet desperation, in a lonely crowd. It started to dawn on him that he'd been taking out frustrations on his sister, feelings he couldn't admit to. Perhaps it was the case that no one really knew him apart from his sister. At that moment, there was a feeling of utter silence as the chattering voices inside his head were finally stilled. Only the sounds of Helen talking with his parents, his own his children playing outside with his wife could be heard at a distance away from him which perhaps could be crossed. Nikki looked on and passed him a glance at the dining room door that could be opened if he chose to.

DCI Taylor didn't let the grass grow under her feet now that her girlfriend had given her information of absolutely certain and specific quality. Once she'd obtained full details of the drugs dealer, it was easy enough to trace the change of address and it firmly located the move to a reputable 'Garden of eden' village where the locals organised 'bring and buy' fetes and the staple stimulant of choice was a pot of tea and home made cakes at the local tea shop. It was a place where retired Middle England bought houses to savour the rural splendours and like minded younger element travelled up to London. A distinguished female barrister was a long term resident who added some tone to the neighbourhood along with an accountant or two. The village did not attract the nouveaux riche set who found the tranquillity of the countryside much too tame. The locals struggled as best as they could as rising house prices threatened to squeeze them out of existence. The village had its small council estate which, fortunately, had toned in with the neighbourhood as the uniform looking houses had their hollyhocks and roses growing outside in profusion. Only a few local yobs made any kind of noise and the one council tenant that looked anyway out of the ordinary kept herself to herself, apart from the motorbike that periodically disturbed the peace and quiet. However, while a certain amount of loud music could be heard, all in all, the locals told the very inquisitive DCI Taylor that the newcomer fitted into the village reasonably well. All these stories from the knowledgeable owner of the local store told DCI Taylor everything she wanted to know.

The only conundrum that DCI Taylor wanted to get to the bottom of was why on earth this barrister had anything to do with this drugs dealer. She was spotted going up to the house in question as often as she could manage and was stopping overnight. DCI Taylor scrutinized the criminal records of this dealer who had knocked around with the East End drugs operations for a number of years but had no boyfriends or romantic interests. The dealer was known to have close friendships with a number of women over the years as she moved from flat to flat. DCI drew the conclusion obvious to her but not to the men who had compiled these records. She wasn't born into the criminal fraternity but had been a struggling rock musician for a number of years before commercial calculation had told her that more money could be made from retailing drugs than an uncertain living going from club to pub around Britain. The career transition was comparatively easy once she'd thought about it and the last time she'd been busted, she'd talked her way out of trouble. This was shortly before she headed out of town and decided to operate from the suburbs and it was only now that she'd been spotted.

DCI Taylor smoked her last cigarette of the day before making up her mind what to do about seeing how the barrister fitted in to the situation before organising the bust to catch her red-handed. One innocent possibility had already crossed her mind but she had to be sure of her facts. In the meantime, surveillance teams were carrying out observations to fine tune their knowledge of this dealer's modus operandi.


	48. Chapter 48

**Scene Forty Eight**

Oh, you baby," Kristine exclaimed, laughing as Jules backed away from the much smaller black dog who immediately bared his teeth in anger. They were walking on the green across the road from the court, once John and Jo's favourite meeting place in happier times. She sensed that Jules was hiding behind her skirts and bent down to comfort the animal. The owner was a little apologetic for his pet's behaviour and she intervened in her kindly fashion.

"Don't worry, It's not your dog's fault. For such a large dog, he is a big softie, aren't you Jules. Just a big softie."

Kristine ruffled the dog's ears, let him do his business and made her way back to the courtroom where she wanted to see John and George in was a private research project which claimed her very active curiosity.

Kristine made her way into the foyer and came up against the security barrier where she was stopped by a pushy minor official.

"But why do you want to sit in on a court hearing? I mean, you're blind."

Kristine drew herself up to her full height, counted to ten and then let fly in her most imperious tones..

"If you must know, I have ears to hear with and a brain that I can think with, both better than you can. Here's my personal ID for the University of London library where I lecture in education studies while studying for a PhD is a combined doctorate of Education and Criminology. I wish to sit in at a sample court hearing as part of my personal research. Is there anything I need to make clearer so that even you can understand?"

Behind her, she heard that uniquely aristocratic voice laugh in such a way that inspired delicious fantasies inside Kristine's very active imagination.

"Even if I hadn't seen Jules, I'd know that voice anywhere. Kristine, it's such a pleasure to come across you again."

As George kissed Kristine on her cheek, the official wished he could tuck his head inside his stiff white shirt and blushed, enabling Kristine to pass through a special turnstile and metal detector. He was not going to risk the additional wrath of Ms Channing whose scary reputation walked abroad the corridors of the Old Bailey. He knew when to give up.

George linked her arm in Kristine's purely as a practical measure to guide her friend to her destination as they walked across the black and white tiled wasn't complaining at George taking control in this fashion.

"Are you really doing this research work? It doesn't matter if you aren't as there's open access to the visitor's gallery," George asked with a wicked sideways conspiratorial look on her face.

"If both you and John are appearing in court, perhaps I can stretch a point," Kristine confessed to a peal of laughter in reply as they walked on to the base of the staircase to the visitor's gallery. George brought them to a halt at this point.

"I have to go to my client and solicitor but perhaps we could have lunch together if you've got time," George sweetly asked Kristine. How could she refuse?

Kristine made her way up the grand sweep of the staircase and comfortably ensconced herself on the very front row. There before her she sensed the theatre of justice below her, the players just starting to make their place, judging by the way her ears picked out whispering sounds below her. Finally, she could hear George exchanging words with what was technically called her instructing solicitor but the voice of the male barrister was unimpressive by contrast. Suddenly, a double thump announced John Deed's entrance and the usher read out the technicalities to the various moved from the seat her mistress had designated for him to occupy, neatly taking advantage of the need for silence. It was at that moment that John saw Jules face peeking through the rails of the gallery and Kristine sitting studiously. He repressed a smile with great difficulty and moved into the introduction in his melodious tones.

At the moment while George was waiting her turn to speak, she was feeling as calm and relaxed as she could do while her most immediate focus was on the trial. She'd gone out to Chix on Saturday night with Alice and danced the night away with her, her eyes not leaving her lover's slim form and the beauty of her face for one minute. When they could dance slowly, they wound themselves round each other, kissing each other passionately in a way that drew friendly comment.

"It's lovely seeing you both haven't seen you for awhile, " Sally Anne had said as the two women strolled up to them, out of breath and tousled looking and linking hands together in a romantic, loving fashion.

"We haven't been out for a few weeks and we wanted to meet our friends and let our hair down,"Alice said in a rush of out of breath words, leaning against George lovingly.

"We've spent our spare time reminding ourselves just why even I'm a frightful romantic," George said with a mischievous glint in her eye and a broad smile showing her perfect white teeth, "though don't expect me to read Mills and Boon books. I have my standards, you know."

"And I've been learning at work just where to draw the line so I'm not Lady Bountiful to those who play games with me," Alice said with a look of satisfaction on her face. "It's helped both of us."

George saw Sally-Anne look in Alice's direction with a look of profound satisfaction. She thought that Alice was referring to some private conversation about their recent troubles but she didn't care. Nothing within her circle of friends could now do her any harm and they all long since received her hard won trust.

As John delivered his preliminary introductions, it struck him how good he felt about himself. Despite the emotional knockback he had suffered when Jo Mills had dumped him in favour of another woman, he was coming out of that swamp of despondency and spreading his wings again. This was partly because he had grown up in these last few years to become less intellectually proud and hence more secure in himself. Not only was he in the presence of two women whom he had slept with but he was proud to say that they were true friends of his. Like Nikki and Helen, they were not afraid to speak their minds to him and he could handle their uncomfortable truths knowing that they cared about him in their different positively revelled in the intellectual interchange and having his flexibility of thinking being kept up to the mark.

In the meantime Kristine's hearing engaged with her mental imaginary map of the courtroom and picked out a barrister called Brian Cantwell who lead off the prosecution case with his razor edged consonants. He finally introduced a policeman called DI Sullivan whose blustering tones immediately told her what an incompetent he was. He laid great stress on the fact that his client had no alibi and on his guilty manner, not altogether to Brian Cantwell's approval or so Kristine's judgement on voice timbre told her.

"DI Sullivan, we meet again," George's opening sally curled round Kristine's consciousness as so sexy and powerful at the same time. "Let's start with a crucial piece of evidence. You claim that my client was at the scene of the crime because you very conveniently happened to be on duty like the good policeman you are."

"There's no cause to doubt my word unless I have to provide my own alibi like some common criminal," blustered D I Sullivan, his cheeks red as his anger caught fire.

"But I am not doubting your words as to where you are. I'm just setting the scene. Do not accuse yourself unnecessarily. At the time of the incident concerned, there was no moon, was there not?"

"It wasn't very bright. However, I'm used to seeing in the dark."

"Like cat's eyes, I'm sure," George retorted sarcastically. "I refer you to item B6 in the bundle of evidence that the streetlamp in your immediate vicinity was out of action. Can I have your observation on this?"

"There was general lighting from off-licences, Chinese takeaways, other lights up and down the street. Conditions weren't good but they were good enough for me with my experience on the beat. I know who I saw."

"Or rather who you wanted to see," corrected George in icy tones. "I'll leave it to the jury just how a reliable witness you are before I move onto another point. Just to be quite clear, you state in your evidence that you saw my client pick a fight with the deceased and finally lunge at him with a series of overarm stabs. Do you have any comment on this?"

"That's what I saw, speaking as an experienced professional," DI Sullivan retorted, with the air of really putting one over this toffee-nosed, sarcy barrister.

"Would you be interested to know that my client is left handed?" George asked, with a smooth rejoinder.

"There are plenty of us around," DI Sullivan said in surly tones while a broad smile spread across George's face.

"I have no more questions," George concluded, leaving a puzzled DI Sullivan to take his place at the wings of the court.

George's first witness for the defence was a pathologist Dr Edward Graceman, notable for his studious manner and his curious habit of laying one palm against another as he gave evidence.

"Let us turn to your pathologist's report, Dr Graceman - item D3 in the bundle of evidence. In short, it gives the cause of death as a multiple stab wound to the left torso, the point of entry angled down by twenty degrees by a serrated knife the lacerations being on the left hand side of the this not strike you as rather curious?"

"I know the point you're getting at and I told the investigating officer of this. This crime could only have been committed by a right handed man."

George turned around very shamelessly to the court with a broad smile and looked up at John Deed who was watching the proceedings with amusement

"My Lord, I have a submission to make in the absence of the jury."

"I think I know what's coming," John dryly noted to a discomforted Brian Cantwell and a very buoyant George Channing. Up in the gallery, Kristine restrained herself with difficulty from cheering out was in seventh heaven

"I submit there is no case to answer. The 'evidence' from DI Sullivan isn't worth the air it's breathed upon and the pathology evidence confirms without doubt that my client cannot possibly have committed the crime. Therefore he was exactly where he says he was spending the evening in watching football on the television," George said in rapid yet precise tones.

"I accept the submission. The prosecution case has collapsed utterly. Can we have the jury back in?"

Kristine couldn't wait for the jury to shuffle back into their places and John wasted no time in disposing of the case.

"Members of the jury, you can stay in your place.I am directing that you find the defendant not guilty. Can the foreman please stand. Gentleman and ladies of the jury, do you find Mr Redman guilty or not guilty of the charge of murder?"

"Not guilty, my lord."

"I think this case is one where the investigating authorities have been 'barking up the wrong tree.' and more diligence and clear thinking would have avoided an innocent man being needlessly hounded while the guilty man goes about his daily business, unimpeded. Mr Redman, you are free to go."

Kristine waited for the very last words before making her way rapidly out of the visitor's gallery and down the staircase as fast as she dare go, Jules keeping the tension on his lead just right and was in time to intercept George as she came out of the court's back entrance.

"I trust your research material was up to standard," George said archly, an irresistable smile on her lips, her blue eyes twinkling.

"Do you have any idea of how sexy you are when you are arguing?" Kristine answered, a wide smile still on her face.

"You are a woman after my own heart though you know I am already spoken for."

"I shouldn't wonder," Kristine answered cheerfully, "May I buy you lunch?"

"Certainly but not around here. I'll drive you."

Kristine enjoyed driving in George's convertible even though she had the hood up. The forceful way she battled through the London traffic fitted her imperious nature. Presently, they found themselves in a pleasant cafe off the normal beat which was to both their satisfaction and which accommodated Jules comfortably under the table.

"I'm not keen on the pubs along the main street. They get so sweaty at lunchtime," confided George as they enjoyed a soft drink prior to the waiter bringing them their meal. Presently, George's mobile rang and a soft smile spread across her face when she saw the name flashing up on her screen. Kristine listened to the one way conversation with interest.

"Hi Alice. I've just come out of my court hearing. Needless to say, I trounced the opposition thanks mainly to that twit of a detective, the same one I took apart when Helen was on that absurd charge of breaking the Official Secrets Act. .I'm having lunch with that frightfully interesting female lecturer I met at that Howard League AGM...I'm glad you're asserting yourself a bit with your clients. I know you can't be a quarter as ruthless with them as I am in court...If you're going to be home early, so will I, my darling."

Kristine loved the way George referred to her. She wondered not for the first time why people she met couldn't refer to her in such a casually sensitive fashion.

"I have to confess I came to watch both you and John in action, I mean in court,"Kristine said politely.

"So we are your joint favourites in the legal profession?"

"You and John seem really close," Kristine observed."I could tell from the way you interacted in court."

"It wasn't always like that. We used to have fearful rows as we were on opposite sides, politically speaking while Jo was forever in his chambers. We've become really good friends over time, especially when Alice and I had a rocky patch."

Everything about George screamed at Kristine that there was something she was dying to say but was reining herself in. She could feel the tension in her voice for a start.

"Is there something you want to talk to me about? I'm particularly good in keeping my mouth shut but if you don't want to talk, I don't mind."

"In for a penny, in for a pound," George said in an abstracted fashion, almost talking to herself before Kristine felt the other woman's attention directed at her. "I ought to add that Islept with John a week or so back. I go to a lesbian club called Chix but I can't talk with any of my friends there as it will put too much of a strain on loyalties there and I'm not sure if any of them understand that women can be attracted to men even though they know him for the noble deeds they've seen him perform in court. He's the great untouchable so they can worship him platonically from a distance."

"Take it easy George and take your time telling me about it,"Kristine said in the softest of tones.

Kristine's clear deliberate tones had their effect and George's story poured out in a rush as she relived that dreadfully traumatic time yet the night she slept with John left a warm glow in her heart. She knew above all else that this memory needed to be placed in a secure space for her to deal with and she should bear responsibility for the secret. She finally explained that, in not so many words that she and Alice had told each other the truth. Neither of them could afford any kind of irresponsible honesty that could break up their relationship as they both had way too much to lose. As George drew her story to a close, the meal they'd ordered suddenly arrived. They'd clean forgotten about it. George ordered a dry Martini each and they smiled knowingly at each other, this being their favourite drink.

"So you're not staying with Alice as a dutiful wife but because you love Alice and she loves you," Kristine asked after she took a mouthful of her dinner.

"That's it in a nutshell. I know only too well from bitter experience of John how infidelity can chip away at a relationship, bit by bit and we're not going to risk that again," George said in bleak tones as she tasted a morsel of the dinner.

"It's beyond my experience as I've told you before but it's obviously what you need out of life. Sleeping with friends, male and female, is hardly the romantic conception but it works for me even though it doesn't work for others, Nikki and Helen for instance,"Kristine observed, savouring the pleasure of someone else's cooking.

"John told me about the night you slept with him. He's talked to me about you and there really aren't that many women that have really impressed 're probably the only person I know who can give him a kick up the backside, intellectually speaking, and get away with it. Nikki's more tactful, the way she goes about it," laughed George, her appetite returning.

Kristine laughed loudly at George's witty observation. They ate and drank and chatted awhile while the clattering sounds and chatter of restaurant conversations continued but faded into the background. Suddenly, a sombre thought struck Kristine which gave her pause for thought.

"I wouldn't take anything further unless I'm sure of your blessing George." Kristine said tenderly, highly conscious of the years of experience that this really gorgeous woman and this highly attractive man had shared. She was painfully conscious of being a newcomer on the scene. George saw it all and wanted to repay Kristine for her kindness in listening to her.

"Neither you nor John needs my blessing for anything darling. What John needs is some TLC**.**I've always had my doubts if he could ever have got it from Jo and God knows where she is right now.I'm not sure if he'll ever settle down with another woman fulltime but I can tell that you are good for him. Temporary or permanent, does it matter?"

The restaurant stood still as this attractive, intelligent woman got to the heart of what Kristine's life was all about. In her experience, there were precious few who were capable of that and this added extra lustre to the mental image of how she saw George.


	49. Chapter 49

**Scene Forty-Nine **

In all the trials John had ever conducted, he could remember only the occasional instance when he'd experienced real anxiety. Sometimes he'd been plagued by moral dilemmas where the cold consistency of the law ran against his own passionate ideals for justice when other judges would shelter behind the prescriptions of the law. The only other area for concern were the barristers who appeared before him, in particular the one time surefire guarantee of strife and conflict, Jo Mills and George Channing. Since the run of Larkhall Prison based trials had taken place, George in her inscrutable way had defected from the establishment and come over to his side in her own idiosyncratic fashion. All should have been sweetness and light as the three of them had been working together, that is until Jo had dumped him in favour of another woman.

John did his best to be correct and judicious in his handling of court proceedings but it was idle of him to deny that there were moments of frostiness in Jo's manner, that no matter how much she had spun off into a completely different orbit in her personal life, when it came time to appearing in court, she was stuck in the same subordinate mould as she'd ever been. What frustrated her most was when the situation forced John to be especially scrupulously fair-minded in the way he handled the trials which gave her no objective reason to argue with him. She could also see how he turned his head away from her and smiled at George's interventions, that Jo was no longer the "blue-eyed woman" in court trials, George was. Finally, Jo stomped off towards the locker room

which George could not avoid sharing with her.

"I wonder why you aren't up in John's chambers right now. I'm sure the trial will go your way,"muttered Jo peevishly.

"I might go to John's chambers if I feel like it. Why should I worry about being compromised? Alice isn't jealous of him in the slightest. As you know, I am accustomed to having my cake and eating it. In any case, John is quite smitten with Kristine Thorne, that very talented university lecturer who made her mark at the Howard League AGM,"George retorted, giving way to smirking temptation to wind Jo up as she always used to in the past.

"I wouldn't have thought that Ms Thorne is quite his type. She hasn't got the usual blond hair, blue eyed and long legs,"Jo replied dismissively.

"You know Jo, you shouldn't take out your anger and frustration against 're quite capable of being friends again if you let us. John isn't the shallow male chauvinist he once was,"observed George seriously, trying to engage the other woman's eye contact."I've spoken to Kristine at length. She's no more interested in exclusive relationships than John is but she is a good friend and I can see what John sees in her as much as he does. Your trouble is that you've made yourself the outcast for no good reason. It's all so unnecessary."

Jo ignored George's home truths, snapped shut the locker door and headed off back to her car for another evening with Mel who'd be waiting for her, except that once again the unspoken question of them living together was never raised.

In another part of the metropolis, Kristine had finished marking her last essay for the day and, having some spare time on her hands, resolved to visit Karen who, in her free and easy way, had suggested at the Howard League AGM that she pop round to see her and Beth some time. She'd visited her once and had a pleasant, relaxing time of it, Jules being made a fuss of by both women.

"Hi, it's Kristine," she said into her mobile,"I know you nurses are busy by definition but would it be all right if I pop round?"

Karen Betts had just had a difficult shift thanks to the hectoring behaviour of her unfavourite registrar, Jac Naylor who had heard of Karen's previous employment and somehow felt threatened by it. She had finished her last operation as Jac Naylor's disapproving expression came into sight.

"You're in luck, Kristine. I've finished my shift and Beth's at home already. I know we'd like your company. It's not as beth and I are going to strip each other naked and ravish each other," Karen said in amused tones, just loudly enough.

"That's great. Give me half an hour and I'll be round," Kristine enthused, making a mental note to ask the background of her friend's obviously theatrical performance. She liked Karen a lot for the way she couldn't give a damn about what empty-headed petty moralists thought of her.

Beth had rattled through her assignment which wasn't of a world-shattering nature as she had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being sidelined..She had been the featured journalist on Nikki's expose of conditions in Larkhall Prison and Helen being found not guilty of breaking the Official Secrets Act. Her concisely written article on the Howard League of Penal Reform AGM ought to have featured on Page 8 but the editor 'spiked' her story and let some highly paid 'name' journalist pontificate on the state of the world about us and tell readers, relax folks, the powers that be will take care of everything. Beth studied from afar the more grey-haired male journalists who had specialized in foreign affairs and had really studied their craft and, more to the point, had built themselves an unassailable position from where they wrote theirt trenchant , hard-hitting criticisms. They were the sort of people she wished to emulate and when she bumped into them, they treated her kindly, praised her articles and glossed over her sexuality but unfortunately they weren't in her department. She was stuck with the younger, black suited, short-haired guys who were on the make and would cheerfully grind out hack work if it furthered their careers.

When she got the phone call from Karen about an unexpected guest, she was willing to defer her temptation to charm the very willing Karen into bed way before their bedtime because the compensation was Kristine's stimulating conversation.

"Darling, you're looking at the Independent's newest arts correspondent, signed, sealed and delivered."Beth said acidly when Kristine had arrived and she'd given her a glass of orange.

"That's totally scandalous on principle's sake," Karen said at last after her mouth had opened in gave Kristine a jolt, too. "Even if you have a hankering after the arts, I can't remember you ever saying you wanted a transfer off the political section."

"My editor told me this morning with no hint of this being in the offing. After I protested at the sales pitch he gave me, he dropped the phony niceties. It's really ironic when the women's movement fought for the term Ms to free women from being defined in terms of heterosexual marriage that it gets used aggressively by male chauvinist bosses against independent free-thinking women?" Beth wondered aloud as Karen hastily poured her a strong measure of scarcely diluted vodka. "I'm also lucky for the rampant macho male enthusiasm in the sports section or I'd be exiled there being set up to fail as sports bores me stiff."

"That's really horrible,"Kristine said sympathetically."I'm sure rebels like us have the same trouble everywhere, if this helps. I'm known as the young cantankerous upstart of dubious morals. As yet, they haven't worked how to get rid of me,"Kristine said, passing a cigarette in Karen's direction who lit up gratefully.

"It's just as well I'm tolerant to tobacco smoke. I've learnt to live with it,"Beth said lightly.

"There are compensations, darling. You know there are," Karen said, borrowing a bit of George's style which prompted general laughter. It was what all three women wanted, a sense of shared kinship whichever field they worked in. There was a lovely feeling of sororiality at its warmest and it pointed forward to a lovely convivial evening. Unhappily, it was not to be as the sounds of someone clumping up the stairs audibly zeroed in the direction of their front door. The knock on the door made Karen's body tense. she was sure her selfish son was here to ruin their evening. Sighing, she answered the door.

"Hi mum. I thought I'd pop round and see you. Long time no see and all that," he said with apparent inconsequence. Karen was not deceived.

"As you can see, Ross, I have company. Kristine's here because she phoned in advance

to ask if it was all right dfor her to come round. You get no special favours,"Karen pointed out firmly.

"It's different this time,"Ross sprang back with the gift of the gab. "I've got problems that can't wait, big problems. I owe people money. I hate to bother you but there's no one else I can turn to. You're my only hope."

For a second, Karen flashbacked to a different flat, when she was the trouser-suited wing governor at Larkhall Prison and she had to contend with Fenner's brand of self-pity. The similarity in the attempt to ensnare her emotions made her shudder inside. Although she'd told herself that she'd given up sympathy for worthless causes, for a few painful moments that seemed to last a lifetime, this primal son to mother call for help made her waver. Karen couldn't speak and Beth didn't feel right in making judgment where Karen lay silent. Kristine saw how the land lay and resolved to help her friends.

"I know you Ross Betts," she exclaimed in clear knowing tones, "I never forget a voice. I taught you education studies in your first year at university- or tried to."

Ross swivelled his head round and his worst nightmare appeared before his eyes, a strong-minded woman whose blindness struck down any hard luck stories who wouldn't wear any hard luck stories. Karen and Beth leaped at the opportunities offered to them.

"Tell us about my son's distinguished academic career," Karen said a touch sarcastically. "All I hear are vague nothings."

"Well, for a start, Ross had the mistaken idea that being a student was a licence to spend his loan money down the union bar. Above all, he couldn't grasp the elementary

principle I hammer home to my first years that, certainly, you can enjoy yourselves but you must schedule getting your work done even if it means burning the midnight oil in getting essays done at the last minute. In other words, you have to take responsibility. I plan my lectures and mark the essays in the same way. Ross' failure to learn this lesson was at the heart of all his so called emotional problems."

"So what sort of things did he get up to? I understand from George that her ex husband, the judge was as disreputable a student as any but got a first at Oxford,"weighed in Beth.

"My memory and sources of information are infallible,"proclaimed Kristine, watching the dishevelled young man squirming in his seat, wondering how far he'd gone down in the world and why. She could make a few accurate guesses.

Ross's worst nightmare engulfed him as his mother and his one time university lecturer all ruthlessly dissected his shortcomings, slotting together their separate knowledge of him. His mother's strong minded partner made it quite clear not to try any hard luck stories on her.

"But you worked hard at your schoolwork and got some decent A levels which got you into university?" Karen pursued, gazing through him and into the distance at the vision of the clean cut, fair-haired, blue-eyed youth whom she'd been proud of. an impossibly long time ago.

"I still imagined that dad would come home. I did all that stuff for him. Some hope," Ross said sullenly, looking Karen in the eye for the first time since she'd laid eyes on him again. For once, he was being honest even if what he said was repulsive. Hadn't she slaved a lifetime bringing him up while his spineless father cleared off at the first hint of difficulties.

"You've got everything so wrong Ross. You should do things for yourself and for those who do the hard graft in caring for you. Take me for example. I got myself out of the nightmare of that hit and run murder rap for me, not for my grandad and gran, not for Beth as I only got to know her the night of the acquittal, not for my friends though they certainly helped me and certainly not for you or your father. Beth's the same and I suspect Kristine is as well," Karen answered, the tone of her voice utterly certain and self-assured.

"So what do I have to do for you to help me? Do I have to crucify myself?" wailed Ross, trying his utmost to persuade her mother to help him out.

"Stop bullshitting for a start," Karen said curtly, looking her son steadily in his eyes.

"And clean up your act. It doesn't take rocket science to know what you're up to," chimed in Beth.

"And get yourself a job even if it's stacking shelves in Tescos. You set out to be the best shelf-stacker who walked the earth," concluded Kristine in steely tones.

"And maybe I might help out if you prove yourself. Got that Ross?"

Ross looked up at the three women standing in judgment over him. However harsh they sounded, this was the only lifeline there was. This was his moment of decision in his life.


	50. Chapter 50

**Scene Fifty **

Despite the overheated domesticity of Jo's lifestyle with Mel, Jo never forgot that she had a living to earn. Her problem was that conversations with her fellow professionals were at best stilted and non-committal and, at worst, jarred her sensibilities where John and George were concerned. She found it difficult to frame the words she wanted to say and what did come out was aggressive. It was moments like these that made her despair of her surroundings. She had suddenly come to feel that a certain false bonhomie had always oiled the wheels that turned the conversations at social gatherings and that, stripped of this pretense, everything grated on her which was why she'd had a run in with George.

When she thought about it back in the sanctuary of her office, all her troubles deemed to date back to the Howard League of Penal Reform AGM where she'd ended up in arguments that blew up from nowhere. She remembered how Kristine had disappeared with Karen and George in the break and how an instant friendship had started around her in the seminar group which seemed to freeze her out of the discussion. George's revelation that John had started an affair with Kristine put the seal on her suspicions and she felt duty bound to talk with John and explain to him that he was making a big mistake. She felt that she was best to advise him even though she was mystified as to what attracted him to her. She finally came to a resolution on this point after the first day into a new trial working opposite the slipshop Neumann Mason-Alan. His unfortunate tendency to ask leading questions drew the lion's share of John's more forceful directions while Jo stayed out of trouble. At the close of business, Jo passed him a note that she wished to see him about a private matter in chambers. When John received the crumpled piece of paper, he smiled briefly but remained concerned as to the purpose of this meeting. In turn, as Jo headed boldly in the direction of the judge's chambers, she smiled slightly at the thought that, this time the LCD spies wouldn't be watching her every move. In fact, now she came to think about it, they had displayed a curious disinclination to breathe down her neck despite the fact that it was an open secret amongst her peers.

In Jo's eyes, John received her with his customary politeness but with none of the warmth of the old was something very controlled in his mannerism as he sat down in the armchair, indicating her place on the sofa.

"To what do I owe your company Jo? I must admit, I am intrigued."

"I thought we ought to talk and clear the air between us," Jo said abruptly. "I didn't explain myself very well when I finished our relationship."

"If it helps to get over any uncomfortableness, I can tell you that Kristine and George have filled in the gaps. I know that you're in a lesbian relationship with your old schoolfriend whom you've spoken to me about more than once."

The directness of John's reply took Jo the back of her mind, she was still used to the old circuitous John. The smouldering embers of her antagonisms took fire at once at Kristine's name.

"I'm so glad that a relative stranger is so well informed about my private life. I thought better of you, John Deed," Jo snapped sarcastically.

"Not to me she isn't," John said in calm, confident tones.

"Oh, so she's another of your sleeparounds. You have strange tastes," Jo sneered.

John took fire at John's attitude all his qualities that had landed him in trouble, he'd never been ashamed of standing up for a friend and, most recently, he'd extended his loyalties to women whom he'd platonically admired. The one occasion he'd slept with Kristine didn't muddy the purity of his feelings.

"Jo, I have information for you," John said in steely tones. "You won't have known that Kristine and I got to know each other in the evening of the Howard League AGM. After you finished with me, I phoned Kristine as a friend to talk to and, yes, I later slept with her at her flat but she's in a completely different league from all my 'one night stands.'"

"Like how?You caught her eye, you charmed her into bed, you slept with her and cleared off the next how different is that?" challenged Jo after which she suddenly darted for the drinks cabinet, poured herself a large measure of whisky and downed it in one gulp.

"Bit difficult as she's blind," John retorted drily. Jo shut up and blushed. John gave it a little while before resuming his counter-attack.

"Because we've talked a hell of a lot to each other and she is one of the few women who can question everything I hold dear and see if it stands up to scrutiny and, underneath her tough exterior, is surprisingly compassionate and understanding at a time when I really wasn't at my best. My friendship with her isn't that different from my friendship with Nikki and Helen except, in their case, I see them as sisters."

"I still think you've got strange tastes," Jo insisted, suspecting that she might be pushing her luck a bit. "I've nothing against whatever woman you're consorting with.I'd be grateful if you didn't tell her all about our private life."

"So that's why you came to see me Jo. You have a problem with my friendship with Kristine. That's the reason why you came here. I can't see why you're bothered. There's nothing the LCD can object to and you're going your way and I'm going also solves the problems we have in court and even you coming to my chamber," John said triumphantly in loud tones, spreading his arms wide.

"You're the most infuriating man I've ever met,"Jo stormed, her blue eyes shooting flame and her fists clenched. "I don't know what I ever saw in you."

"For once, I'm looking beneath the outer layer, beneath the skin which is more than I normally did for you," John said in unusually quiet precise tones. It crossed his mind that, in this argument with Jo, he had nothing he could be reproached for.

The same realisation hit Jo with the force of a sledgehammer. On every other occasion, she'd been in a position, quite justifiably so, of moral superiority that this time wasn't there. She made the sound like an express train at high speed and doubled back towards the door. She slammed it behind her with considerable force, leaving John feeling concerned for Jo's state of mind but definitely not feeling guilty. It was a curiously liberating experience.

Coope discreetly entered the room a couple of minutes later and offered to make him a cup of tea. John gratefully accepted the offer. It was after he'd finished the cup of tea when George sidled into John's chambers, having waited for all the noise to die down. There was a free and easy aspect of their friendship that meant that she didn't phone up for an kissed John on his cheek and wandered over to the drinks cabinet.

"You know, it does feel slightly strange having a drink with you in your chambers." George said to John with a smirk on her face as she poured him a drink She very nearly added that it was a peculiar feeling to sit in the armchair, indulging in the kind of cosy chat where Jo Mills had once sat but she knew that would be unwise. She remembered the way she'd sarcastically accused both of them stitching up court cases here as a prelude or sequel to sleeping together.

"Your company is very stimulating and I'm in the peculiar position of not needing to watch out for the LCD spies. I can have my cake and eat it now your relationship with Alice is back on a sound footing,"John retorted with a twinkle in his eye.

The irony of the situation made George laugh. It was precisely her thought also.

"I had lunch the other day with Kristine. She is very charming, stimulating company and she makes me laugh as you do. You have done well to engage in an open relationship with her. I would guess that she's very choosy who she sleeps with."

"It's strange how life changes. At one time, I thought that life had no more to offer me and now I feel at peace with myself," observed John in a dreamy, philosophical vein, gazing towards the far horizons. George sensed this as a compliment equally to both herself and Kristine.

"I remember hearing of your attempt to go through therapy to finally commit yourself to Jo Mills. If only you could unlock the secret of your heart so you could give yourself to one woman only. Then you end up sleeping with your therapist. Only you could do that," bantered George with a smirk on her face, her earlier heavy emphasis giving way to a droll conclusion.

"I hold up my hand to that,"John said with a wry smile, listening to his friend's very astute comments.

"Yes, that's not the only thing that holds up," George drawled with a wicked smirk on her face. "You've finally discovered that for all these years you've been on the wrong tack altogether. You need a woman who is a match for you in every way, with quite as much of a wandering eye but who has a capacity for real friendship. You don't have to think about your infidelities any more than she does so everything is fine."

This striking example of life's irony made John laugh loudly.

The stakeout on a certain slab-sided council house in a rural village was got under way as soon as DCI Taylor had made the arrangements. Fortunately, arrangements with the local council enabled easy and discreet access by a surveillance team to the boarded up local store on the end of the council estate. It was ideal as the top floor diagonally overlooked 8 Jubilee Close with its lack of house number and missing front gate. The It saved the dangerous necessity for an unmarked police car or an observation van to be parked on the road for no particular reason. The local police force who advised the drugs squad operatives advised that the locals were sharply observant of suspicious strangers which would work against them but the drugs courier under observation had taken pains to construct her alternate personality. However much the courier's wayward manner which had attracted much finger wagging disapproval, it had neatly distracted prying eyes from the real purpose of her activities.

It had to be said that the operatives heartily wished that their observations would bear fruit in short order. In order to be inconspicuous, their facilities were very sparse with only the shabby sofa in the front room. A portable camping style cooker had been surreptitiously moved upstairs into past the flaking paintwork of the staircase and plugged into what had been the back bedroom but was now completely bare of furniture. Worse still, the composition wooden boarding hadn't been removed except for a concealed observation slot offering a narrow field of vision. In short, the job demanded an infinite capacity for absorbing mind-numbing boredom yet at the same time, a capacity for suddenly snapping into gear and capturing evidence of their target, the drugs delivery which intelligence told them was due to come, give or take a day or so either way.

"At least that posh bird is on time," exclaimed the guy with fair short-cropped hair as he gulped down the last of the beefburger with mustard flavouring that his mate had just cooked up." There she is, trotting up the road waiting to spend the night with the Rock Queen just like this time yesterday evening."

"Is she really that naive to think that's why that tart's screwing her? Doesn't she know her game by now?" the second operative said as he glugged the contents of the electric kettle into two mugs with a spoonful of coffee and sugar at the bottom of them. This was the umpteenth mug of black coffee they'd drunk that day and both of them were feeling hyper from all the coffee they'd drunk. That was the only way they'd get through another wearing shift.

"There she is," exclaimed the man looking through the viewfinder. The classy woman he was scrutinising had shortish, wavy hair, alert features and wore jeans, trainers and a stylish shirt. She was pretty good looking though he said it himself. He could see the door flung wide open and the other woman wearing her trademark leather jacket laid her hungry hands on her and snogged her face off while the posh bird ran her hands through the other woman's dark hair. The spectacle was short-lived and the door was shut tight after them as, unseen, the man laughed at them.

"It might be fun for you, mate but that's not what we're earning our overtime for," the second operative said. "Once we clock the supplier, then we phone up control and the lads will do the rest and that's another job done."

So another day went by and it wasn't till the Monday shift when the same operative started calling out excitedly to his mate with the details of the delivery man who had called. He rattled out details of the van registration number, make and colour and where the stash was being taken and, sure enough, it wasn't into the shed where the motorbike was kept. It was inside the house. His mate gave the details to control and the trap was sprung. It was only an hour after the posh bird, looking less sleekly turned out than normal, had emerged from the house, blinked her eyes a number of times even on a dull December day and headed off down the close.

Mel was lying back in bed, feeling gloriously satisfied with herself. She'd locked away the delivery of smack and coke into the secure room and gone back to bed. She'd felt fantastic as she and Jo had spent the whole weekend ravishing each other, drinking and playing music. She thought lazily to herself that Jo had come a long way since they'd met up again and the prim and proper well dressed woman that had sat with her in the tea shop exchanging pleasantries had become the very sexual woman whose brilliant smile, dancing eyes and unashamed nakedness next to her made her want to possess every inch of her very well shaped body. She knew how good she looked to Mel as she found some reason to get out of bed and parade herself before her, something a million miles away from that the very inhibited woman who she first bumped into months before in the local shop. Yes indeed, Jo Mills was a real babe all right, hardly changed from all those years ago. Only that magical night they'd played that gig together in a pub told her that still waters ran deep where Jo Mills was concerned.

The only blot on the landscape where Mel was concerned was that Jo wanted them to live together. Mel smiled to herself in thinking just what a romantic Jo was which was very sweet of her but wasn't compatible with her lifestyle. She knew very well that, no matter how much Jo Mills wanted to recreate a dissolute adolescent lifestyle, she had to protect Jo from the knowledge of her real occupation. She knew very well that Jo would freak out if she knew the real truth so it was best that they spent as much time together that was compatible with her own lifestyle and Jo's own need to do her own thing. It was best for both of them, Mel considered. After putting this mental reverie to bed, Mel stretched herself lazily in bed and arched her back, being dressed only in her T shirt and knickers, her jeans and trainers having been cast on one side. She couldn't help the thought of her fingers stealing down her body to recreate in fantasy form the feel of Jo expertly bringing her to orgasm as she'd done last night.

It was just after she had come to a delicious climax when her pleasures were rudely interrupted by an almighty hammering sound on the door. In an instant, Mel was transfixed with fear as her blood froze in her veins. She felt horribly naked and helpless as she was absolutely certain that the Old Bill were about to bust her at last. Automatically, she tried to sling on her jeans but her legs snagged in the normally roughly amenable material. As she finally got her first leg in, the almighty hammering resounded through the house again. It was only when the wildly dishevelled woman finally stumbled to the bottom of the staircase when the resounding thump of the battering ram smashed the door back on its hinges and several alien looking shapes appeared, all kitted out in riot gear and visors. This was a major bust all right. What made her feel most helplessly afraid was that her smart tongue couldn't get her out of this hole, something she'd relied on all her life..

Jo had an averagely productive Monday which was good, considering the delightfully exhausting weekend she'd enjoyed. She was busy clearing up overdue matters in the morning and, in the afternoon she was starting to read the file for her upcoming trial. As was her habit on Monday mornings, she drank plenty of coffee to crank up her brain cells and was gracious enough to her secretary. At the end of the day, she felt satisfied by an industrious day's work and set off for home though she suspected that she had a similar job staring her in the face when she got home. It was just that she never got the time for dusting shelves and religiously hoovering the carpets.

She cooked herself a quick and easy dinner and cleared up after her. A thought popped into her mind to stroll down to Mel's place to thank her for her hospitality. A smile curved her lips as she hadn't anything to do at home in particular as her sons wouldn't be due down from staying with their university friends until this Thursday when she would have to remember how to be a mother again. She couldn't even begin to think what sort of Christmas she'd enjoy as the last three months since she'd bumped into Mel at the teashop had changed her out of all recognition- except that the same face as usual stared back at her from her bedroom mirror while changing out of her work suit.

Dressed in her more casual attire, she smiled to herself at the rain spitting down at her and, as she was about to round the corner to Mel's house, she pictured the front door opening and her girlfriend's welcoming smile, her invariable black leather jacket which exposed her tight black T-shirt and generous breasts and above all her outstretched arms into which she longed to be embraced by.

As she did round the corner, she encountered a very different sight indeed. Mel's house was as she'd always seen it but this time, there was something unpleasantly different. The unmistakeable sight of blue and white crime scene tape was wrapped around the front door and a police car was parked outside. Jo immediately got anxious and panicky and she broke into a run. Something bad had obviously happened to her lover,

she thought, but this was unimaginable as she wouldn't have an enemy in the world, not as she knew Mel. Finally dishevelled, out of breath and rain-splashed, she raced up to the solitary policeman on duty outside.

"What on earth has happened to Miss Bridges? Is she hurt? I'm a friend of hers," she gasped out with only a fraction of that cool sense of command she was used to display in cross examining a witness in court..

"This is an ongoing police investigation. I'm unable to give any information you know the tenant of this property?"

"Yes, I'm an old schoolfriend of hers," Jo said shakily, blindly reaching for the most convenient truth. "I come round here a lot to talk about the old days."

"In that case, we might want to speak to you. Can I have your name and address please," the policeman said, dropping his impersonal manner in favour of a distinct personal interest.

"I'm Mrs Josephine Mills of 15 Laurel Bank. I'd give you my card but I haven't got it with me right now. I'm a barrister, you know," Jo said, her breath coming in and out in short, jerky bursts. "I want to know if Miss Bridges is well enough to be talked to?"

The policeman thought carefully, struck by the majesty of this woman's profession and the need to handle things carefully. He was on guard to turn away local busybodies while the drugs squad were finishing turning the house upside down. This well brought up lady was clearly not in this league and was an anomaly in comparison with the major drugs bust and the sort of scum involved with drugs trafficking. This woman would be hauled in very soon for questioning when he'd phoned through to control and her concern was obviously genuine. He decided to give the bare minimum of information.

"She's well enough but won't be available for the moment. I'm not prepared to give any more information. You'd best contact the local police station if you want to know any more.I can't let you in, whoever you are or you'll be obstructing a police enquiry. You should know the gravity of the matter."

Jo's hands covered her face as she disconsolately stumbled away. Her world had brutally shifted on its axis. She wanted so much to see her darling Mel. In the meantime, the policeman phoned through to control. The message was bounced down the lines of communication to DCI Taylor, fresh from charging one Melanie Bridges with possession of a large quantity of class A drugs with intent to traffic smiled with great satisfaction and resolved to drive out to the local police station where arrangements were made for Jo Mills to know more about the fate of her lover without her even trying.


	51. Chapter 51

**Scene Fifty-One **

Half an hour later, a young policeman drove over to Mrs Mill's house, a nice old redbricked cottagy property in a terraced row. It was way off his usual beat except for visiting very occasional victims of crime. He knocked on Mrs Mills' smartly painted front door and on being admitted by a very jumpy woman, explained the reasons for his visit and he asked her to accompany him to the police station. He hadn't been told the purpose of his errand so he committed himself to nothing as to what she would discover. He took in his surroundings of a comfortable, well furnished house if slightly untidy. Mrs Mills immediately struck him favourably as a well to do, obviously educated and presentable looking woman who was obviously and genuinely highly distressed. She struck him as not the villain he explained his purpose, Mrs Mills was torn between wanting to discover the truth and wanting to be left alone but she was grateful for the morsel of information about the accused that he did tell her. Underneath his official exterior, he was guardedly sorry for the distraught woman while not committing himself to figuring her out as either guilty or innocent. He did the humane thing to break the ice a bit and offered her a cigarette which she gratefully accepted. He waited for her to gather her mobile phone and necessary possessions in a distracted kind of fashion and escorted her to the car. She offered no resistance, being content to sit in the back of his car like a limp doll. As they raced through the darkened streets and he looked in his rear view mirror, he sensed that all life had drained out of her.

Sure enough, she was allowed to sit in the waiting room after the custody clerk booked her in and in the meantime, he advised Mrs Mills to obtain the services of a duty solicitor.

"Duty solicitor?" Jo Mills echoed the clerk in a vague fashion. "But I'm a high court barrister."

"One of the tricks of the trade is never to represent yourself. It seems different if you're the one facing questions," the custody clerk advised her in soft, clear tones.

The woman got her mobile phone out of her pocket and fiddled around with the list of names and numbers. Deciding who to ring looked to be a major decision while the custody clerk thought to himself that most people took the first name off the list of solicitors but he left her to it.

"John Deed here," he spoke automatically into his mobile phone as Jo's name bleeped for attention. Mimi, asleep and sprawled out on the hearth pricked up his was up in his bedroom wondering what improving activity he could devote himself to, possibly a Chopin concerto he'd neglected for a while.

"It's Jo Mills here," the jarringly broken voice came out of a different world, words emerging in fits and starts. "I'm held in the local police station and I'm advised to seek legal advice. My partner's house had been designated a crime scene, what about, I don't know. I'm due to be questioned. Normally, I can take care of such matters but I'm not in the frame of mind to look after myself."

"You give me the address and I'll be right over," John said in deliberately firm decisive tones designed to reassure her. The decision was instantaneous and didn't need second thoughts.

After an eternity though John had roared off into the night in his convertible, DCI Taylor had been brought up to speed on the latest developments including the name of Mrs Mills' legal representative, she called upon the young policeman to sit in on the interview. She collared one of the interview rooms with a fresh tape ready and waiting and waited for Mrs Mills to be escorted in. Immediately, DCI Taylor took the measure of the distraught Mrs Mills and the steely grey confidence of Judge Deed who immediately created an aura of controlled strength.

"First of all, I must ask you questions of the full extent of your relationship with Melanie Bridges," she said in not unfriendly tones.

The other woman looked flustered while the sharp-eyed DCI Taylor saw the judge wince almost stuck that in her memory bank for later.

"I, well, er, I knew her years ago from my first day at junior school together until sixth form when we had a disagreement about the rock band she was forming. We went our separate ways until, unbeknown to me, she'd moved into the same village I'd lived in for years. three months ago or so, we bumped into each other in the local store and everything started from there."

"What did you make of her when you first saw her?"

"She was dressed in this jeans and leather jacket getup and we resumed the close friendship we'd had as schoolchildren. It was marvellous seeing her again and we caught up on lost time."

"How can this be? We've interviewed Ms Bridges and she strikes me as being totally different from you," pursued DCI Taylor.

"We just seemed to went to the local tea-shop I was the quiet demure one and she was the life and soul of the party.I've found that opposites can attract and in this case, it certainly did," Jo replied, beginning to find her feet and talking in a more philosophical vein.

"So how did the nature of your mutual attraction evolve?" pursued DCI Taylor gently as she started to sense at least part of the truth.

"As you grow up, sometimes you only let that part of you evolve that's nearest your upbringing," Jo stumbled in tortuous tones before gaining her bearings once again. "I'm a widow with two grown-up sons.I'm at the stage of my life where I've come round full circle and I can start to think of what I really want out of life as opposed to being a dutiful wife and mother."

"Please answer the questions, Mrs Mills. This is a reasonable question, isn't it judge," DCI Taylor gently but firmly corrected her. Jo blushed to be on the receiving end of a call to order and inwardly felt very uncomfortable.

"It isn't unreasonable but my client would appreciate knowing where this conversation is leading," John interjected quietly. So am I, he thought but he kept that to himself as this policewoman was behaving perfectly properly.

"All in good time. Nevertheless, if it makes it any easier, for two adult woman to engage in a loving relationship is perfectly acceptable and totally unremarkable in my book," DCI Taylor responded solemnly with a flicker of a glance at the got the drift of her remark, she noted.

"All right then, I went round increasingly often to her house to drink and play guitars together. I was on bass," Jo said in a rush of words. "It brought us closer together and sparked some kind of magic between us. Eventually, we made love one evening. This was like something I'd never experienced in my life before...I eventually got to spend virtually all my free time at her place and we spent a lot of time in bed together. It was so exciting and a bit like forbidden fruit except that nobody was forbidding us. Mind you, I was in danger of burning the candles at both ends so I had to spend time at my house working and tidying up."

DCI Taylor noticed the look of pain in the judge's eye as Mrs Mills talked in such rhapsodical terms. She figured out that they'd been lovers once but she declined to raise the matter as not relevant.

"So how long have you been in a sexual relationship with Ms Bridges?"

Jo thought for a moment as she tried to compute the rush of exciting experiences in calendar form.

"I think we've been lovers for the past month."

"So would you say that you got to know Ms Bridges very intimately and I don't mean in the sexual sense. I have to be precise in how I phrase this question."

"I felt I knew her all my life," Jo said dreamily. The poor soul, DCI Taylor started to suspect that this woman is more naive than anything else and unlikely to be a guilty party to Ms Bridges' less than salubrious enterprises. The next set of questions would clinch it.

"Did you know what Ms Bridges did for a living?"

"I really don't know," Mrs Mills started to say very vaguely. The question had literally not crossed her mind before as she'd gone about her life with Mel in such a romantic haze. She assumed that Mel made her living somehow or other. "We didn't talk about such things."

"I think you might have found out something that my client doesn't know. If so, you are obliged to inform my client just why she has been brought to the police station to be questioned on such intimate, personal matters. As you say yourself, such relationships are perfectly legal," interjected the judge in crisp, confident and very local instant after he finished speaking, he knew that he'd committed a major blunder in asking a question that he didn't know the answer to. The moment of silence that hung in the air wasn't just police interview theatrics but the gravity of a bombshell that she decently hesitated in unleashing upon the unsuspecting Jo Mills. He had a sick feeling in his stomach.

"I have to tell you that Ms Bridges has been charged with possession of a large consignment of heroin and cocaine and with the intent to traffic class A drugs. I needn't tell you the gravity of the charge. That's why I was asking you detailed questions of the accused."

The news hit home with cataclysmic impact. Mrs Mills instantly burst into tears and tried to curl herself into a foetal ball while the judge took the poor woman into his arms. DCI Taylor felt horribly uncomfortable and impotent to intervene, letting the judge do the comforting with surprising tenderness. though he was dressed in a smart blue suit, somehow she couldn't think of the man as a judge. He had too much instinctive sympathy as he led the broken woman out of the interview suite after DCI terminated the interview, clicking the tape recorder to a halt. Though the poor woman didn't know it at the moment, she was scratched from the investigation and possibly from the court trial.

"You've done enough for me John," Jo said brokenly, tears still streaming down her face as they were allowed into a small cafeteria area. John had his arm round her shoulders and was still feeling emotionally overwhelmed for himself and for Jo. He couldn't erase the way he'd been dumped and this made for a dangerous emotional situation. "I've got to go somewhere but I don't know where, certainly not to my place."

"The only sanctuary I know for emotionally devastated members of the legal profession is Nikki and Helen's," John started to say shakily until such an off the wall started to make a vierd kind of sense. "Come to think of it, it's not such a bad idea and half-past eight isn't unreasonable. I've been there twice before and been looked after."

"Can you phone them? I'd be ever so grateful," Jo said, looking touchingly grateful. "I've had stupid arguments with them and, besides, I'm not up to it."

"Of course we can judge," Helen's strong confident tones echoed reassuringly in John's ear to his huge relief after he'd given her a swift account of tonight's traumatic events. "We owe her bigtime and tell her to forget about our past arguments. We have a long time her to pack some essentials for the night and we'll be ready for you."

"Bless the pair of you," John said, audibly moved. In his eyes, they were the experts in such matters compared with whom he was an amateur. "We'll be over as soon as we can get over."

John checked his watch and it was a quarter to ten and he couldn't help thinking such a lot had happened that evening, including zooming from the police station to Jo's flat where she packed a nightcase and then on back to Nikki and Helen's flat. He sat in the comfortable armchair, taking in the lush colours of the flat and comfortable, reassuring atmosphere. he thought back nostalgically to when he'd twice crashed on the sofa for the night. There Jo sat being cradled in Nikki's arms while Helen stroked her hand. John noted that Helen's pregnancy was becoming pretty advanced and could see how the whole experience fitted her like a glove, a mature knowingness having evolved along the way. Jo had cried out her anguish from the bottom of her heart and his two friends had let it run and had gently soothed her. This was a more directly physical demonstration of the sort of comfort that they'd given John and he felt intensely proud

to know them. He also felt a little guilty that he would have to leave shortly.

"Jo, in case I hadn't said it before, I'll be a true friend for you in whatever way you need," John said, an uncharacteristically audible tremble in his voice and his fist in front of his mouth.

"Thank you John," Jo said emotionally, still very weepy in her manner. "I've realised how I'd cast aside your friendship and how bitterly I've wronged you. I'm beginning to feel that I'm coming out of some kind of dark tunnel and how much your friendship matters to me."

"The true friends you've made along your way won't be lightly lost. I'm not the only one," John said gently.

"That's right," breathed Jo more easily as she turned to face John and blinked in the dawning light. "There's George for a start..."

"...and all our friends from Chix who know how you help the weak," added Helen brightly. "You, John and George all have a following, a fan club."

Jo laughed shortly at the kind compliment. She felt incredibly safe and secure right now. Tomorrow's prospects were a million miles away.

"I'll kiss you and say goodnight. I know you're in safe hands," John said tenderly, bending down to briefly embrace Jo and kiss her on her cheek. Both friends smiled approvingly at him before he turned towards the front hall.

Helen insisted in getting to her feet to show John out, it being something of an effort. She clicked on the hall light and they moved to the front door.

"Jo this time?" grinned Helen, a mischievous glint of amusement in her eyes.

"I can't tell you how much I thank you for your kindness. I know that you'll be far more capable of comforting Jo than I am. You're the experts in that field as I know very well," John said, his voice tinged with emotion as the hallway lights threw harsh shadows on them all.

"If you hadn't phoned and things had gone pear-shaped, we'd have been bloody angry with you. We'd have a bone to pick with you."

John smiled more easily, shook Helen's hand heartily and opened the front door. With a careless wave of his hand, he was gone feeling dog tired but easier in his heart than he'd felt for some time. It wasn't the renaissance of life's young love that he was experiencing but a lost friendship now found again.

In a faraway police cell, Mel did her best to settle down in the harsh light and the hard mattress. She hadn't changed out of her day clothes except for her trainers. She was utterly down in the dumps, reckoning that, unless she turned up a blinder of a story, she was well and truly in the shit. For once in her life, her body was stiff and lifeless with no thought of sexual desires. Somewhere out there, she figured out that Jo would find out sooner or later what had happened. Distant visions of the good times they'd shared floated past, as if seen through the wrong end of a telescope. It was too bad that she'd never told her about the one thing in her life that had got her busted but Jo would never have understood. However much she tried, she knew that Jo would never truly share with her the wild side of life.


	52. Chapter 52

**Scene Fifty-Two **

Jo became hazily aware that she'd been sleeping peculiarly being forced to lie on her side because of a mountain that ran the length behind her back and her feet encountered a similar obstacle. Besides her bed was half the width of the double bed she'd spent half her life occupying. She felt suspended in a state of timelessness and, from the chinks of light peeking into the room she was in, Jo guessed that it was morning. Even this knowledge didn't prompt her her normal sense of time and of jobs she needed to undertake as she hadn't the slightest sense of whether this morning was weekend or weekday. Truth to tell, she felt as if she'd gone through a wringer, emotionally and physically, utterly lacking in any kind of energy. She was content to lie there in a vegetative state, numbly accepting the altered shape of her bed as it felt comforting as did what she could sense of her surroundings. Her throat was parched dry but she wasn't inclined to take her normal journey to the downstairs kitchen. She couldn't focus her eyes properly and all she was conscious of was a sense of rich colour which made her feel good. The fact that the interior of her house was furnished in subdued colours didn't matter as the essential fact was that the white quilt that covered her smelled fresh. Something about her situation told her that it might be dangerous to think too much.

As she lay there, she was conscious of the murmur of two female voices, one with an attractive Scottish lilt, the other pleasant voice in Home Counties cadences. Something told her that she should be reassured by that presence. She'd supposed that she'd had guests round that night who'd stopped over and that was all right. She stretched herself briefly, curled herself up comfortably and drifted back into a semi dream state where she floated upon clouds and didn't have to hurry anymore. As a hard-working professional, that was an infinite comfort.

"Jo, do you want a morning cup of tea," the attractive Scottish voice softly spoke next to her ear while she lay where she was, looking up at the piercing blue sky.

"That would be wonderful. Milk and one sugar," she heard herself mumble and lay back in the tangible peace and quiet. She felt curiously disconnected from everything but this did not bother her. She wanted it that way for some obscure reason.

"Here's your cup of tea, Jo. I'll put it on the coffee table next to you," Helen said softly, looking tenderly down at the fair-haired woman who looked curiously childlike as she was curled under her quilt. One corner of the duvet was exposed, showing a white sock and a triangular patch of demin, being the visible part of the jeans Jo had slept in having finally conked out the previous night.

"Hey, you've got Christmas decorations up- and a Christmas tree, Helen,"Jo said croakily as she started to make sense of her surroundings. Her rusty memory creaked into gear as she realised that she'd slept at Nikki and Helen's flat for some reason. She turned herself round to look up and face the friendly woman who was wearing a fetching maternity smock.

"That's because it's two days to Christmas," Helen said in cheery tones, trying not to alarm her friend, for friend she definitely was.

"Bloody hell. I've done nothing for Christmas," Jo sighed, mouth open and sinking back on her pillow.

"A much overrated and overcommercialised occasion Jo, speaking as a daughter of the manse. If you take your sons out to a restaurant instead of slaving over a cooker for several hours, pop up the decorations same as last year, then there only remains the biggest present you can give is your friendship for those deserving of it," Helen said, very kindly making short work of the difficulties. The inner meanings weren't lost on Jo was the start of a different way in living her life. There was nothing that couldn't ultimately be fixed. An image of a woman frantically and heedlessly rushing from work to a form of pleasure that had done her no good rose up before her eyes. She supposed that that was the way that her friends would have seen her. She felt as if she could feel the nerve endings in her toes after her leg had become amputated and knew that she would take time getting over her loss. One step at a time, she had told her recovering alcoholic of a father, and now she knew she would have to take her own medicine. She reached for that most traditionally British of things, a nice cup of tea.

"We're thinking of going to Chix tonight," Helen said brightly as they ate toast and marmalade at their dining room table. "I know you've got a lot to sort out but if you can, it might do you good." They had talked over more calmly the sequence of events, both practical and emotional, that had led to the appalling catastrophe last night.

"Not that we're trying to matchmake you," Nikki said hastily before delicately leading up to her proposal. "You've had a tough time of it. Except for Helen who's one lucky woman, every lesbian I know has had one ex-girlfriend once in her life who spells trouble. She makes you fall in love, you have the time of your life and then, when everything is absolutely perfect, it's wham bam, thank you ma'am as everything goes pear-shaped and it's not her fault of course. We just think you'd like some good company."

"It's a good idea if I can get everything organised. I can phone the office and take time off. Everything goes quiet before Christmas but I need to make some phone calls like you suggested. Before that, I need one extra strong black coffee and two sugar. I think I can get everything together. Needless to say, I'm not phoning after Ms Bridges," Jo concluded firmly.

Helen and Nikki watched with great interest as Jo made a rapid sequence of phone calls, starting with her office, her two sons, the restaurant local to her home and finally, a short affectionate phone conversation with a very relieved John, judging by the phone conversation.

"I've agreed with my sons that this Christmas will be unconventional but it will work," Jo pronounced enthusiastically. "All they ask for is that there's time to get back to watch the TV programmes they like. Come to think of it, I like them too. They're nice and comforting and traditional and somehow I want it that way. John sends you his love and appreciation for looking after me and he'd passed word onto George who's coming over tonight with us to Chix. Does that sound all right?"

The two women were touched by Jo's resilience, even though they suspected that this was her reaction to the surface shock and the reverberations would rumble on a long while. It also moved them how much Jo valued her opinion when once, she had been the expert professional and they were coming to them for help.

"But what shall I wear?" Jo said, latching onto this practical concern. "I really don't know what to wear."

"Just relax," Helen reassured her in soothing tones."We use a small boutique round the corner, not your impersonal clothes market, something you could do without right now. when we've been caught short like this, it never fails. It's off the beaten track and I've used it ever since I first came to London and Nikki swears by 'll come with you."

The last words were the clincher. Both women knew that Jo would be very jittery if she were thrust into the manically busy Oxford street area of London and would very likely seriously freak out. Jo let herself be led to the red Peugeot and sit in the back seat like the child she once was. The two women in the front felt comforting.

Sure enough, Jo emerged from the boutique, a brilliant smile on her face having chosen a simple black off the knee dress that leapt out at her. As she'd grabbed enough makeup in her frantic scurry round her flat the day before, she had a long leisurely get together. It enabled her to look and feel her best, not to say the soothing feel of the flat she'd been living in. Helen and Nikki made their appearances and Jo's eyes opened wide with wonder.

"You both look really good. I hope you don't mind me saying," Jo said a little nervously as she was beginning to realise the reality of the club she'd backed off from going to, on a number of time, it would happen and it made her feel both nervous and excited at the same time.

"Wait till you see the others," Nikki laughed merrily as she led the way to the front door. "It is a sight for the eyes, artistically speaking."

As they drove along the darkened streets, the coloured lights of London streetlife flashed past before their eyes and the three women were impelled to laugh and chatter amongst themselves, Nikki and Helen being aware that the days of suddenly deciding to go out that evening were contrast, this was an entirely new experience for Jo and she wondered just what new door was opening up to her in her life. She felt like a teenager going out for her first dance even if she was going to take it easy. When they got there, the circular 'Chix' sign smiled welcomingly down at them and they were drawn into the pulsing sounds of honey coated dance music and flashing lights that took Jo's breath away. She stared open mouthed as she took in the sight of all the dancing women swaying to the music. She zeroed in on one incredibly glamorous wearing low cut slinky dresses that showed a generous length of thigh and the next and then the next again.

"Come on Jo," laughed Nikki understandingly."We'll introduce you to our friends some of whom you'll know already." Dazedly, she mentally returned to her two friends as they flanked her, protectively. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a number of stylishly attractive women appeared out of the gloom, apparently waiting for them. Jo couldn't believe her eyes as the long haired blonde with a gorgeously revealing black skirt metamorphosized into Karen. Similarly, the cool blonde in a trouser suit became Trisha. Sally-Anne answered visually to the attractive brunette with hair pulled away from her face. The tall glamorous woman wearing leather trousers and skimpy white top suddenly focussed into Alice and finally the incredibly aristocratic woman in a flowing gown appeared out of nowhere as George. Karen introduced Jo to Beth, the one woman she wasn't sure of , the elegant woman with a dark bob cut and Jo recalled the sympathetic journalist outside the court at Helen's 's mouth hung open to see them all magically transformed, all glowing in their beauty.

"My God, you all look so fantastic," stammered Jo ecstatically. "Am I so glad to see you. You are a sight for sore eyes."

"You're pretty good looking,Jo. It's the first time in all the time I've known you that you've ever ogled me. Still, you need a treat tonight and Alice understands how I bask in narcissistic attention," drawled George which drew a general round of laughter, Alice included.

"Come on, the first round is on any case, I'm thirsty," Beth urged on everyone. Jo was the last to place her order and George looked on with raised eyebrows.

"I'm only hesitating as I've been drinking way too much for the last few months except for last night. I seriously wondered about having coke and ice," Jo explained apologetically.

"What about an alcoholic drink first and soft drinks after that?" suggested Trisha politely."I'm the joint owner of this club but I don't want to force customers to get plastered, Jo."

"We all want you to have a mellow time of it," put in Sally-Anne kindly."Some of us have been through tough times so we know what it's like."

Jo looked round at these kind-hearted women who so wished her well. She'd wondered up till then if she was seriously in danger of being an alcoholic but now knew that it was only the presence of someone else silently pushing her to put back the booze. That pressure and that presence was gone now.

"In that case, I'll have a whisky and soda," smiled Jo, feeling the glow of approval all around them.

"I saw you eyeing up all the women on the dance floor," grinned George at her friend as they sat at the tables beside the dance floor. "Of course, we're different as we're each taken.

"I want to take things easy. I mean no pressure," came Jo's smiling reply, secretly eyeing her friend's generous breasts. She'd mostly seen George neatly buttoned up in her starched white shirt, what she could see that her gown didn't cover. "I mean there's no harm in just looking, is there."

"It was different for George and I,"laughed Karen, accentuating her strongly defined cheekbones. "We'd both evolved to the point where we were ripe for Sapphic experience with a faithful lover. We've compared notes, you , it's as you say. You can hang around with any of us unless you decide differently. I know that Trisha and Sally-Anne have a club to run," she added, kindly giving the two restless women the cue to slide off discreetly to their duties.

As time went on, a few of the group slid off to the dance floor to dance the night away. The colours swirled round the dance hall in dreamy patterns and the music pumped out from the speakers at just the level to causes pulses to quicken as the latest dance sounds and bodies to gyrate in sheer physical pleasure. Alternatively, slower music caused couples to embrace, lock their arms round each others' bodies to to kiss each other slow and long. Nikki and Helen who had the occasional dance but mainly sat it out with Jo, spoke softly talking nostalgically about many pleasurable evenings in the past. Finally, it occurred to Jo to go to the toilet and Nikki pointed the way. They smiled to each other as they suspected that, after a few drinks, Jo considered a bit of discreet circulating on her own.

Jo zigzagged her way towards the edge of the dance floor and stopped. She felt so close to where the action was but memories flashed back to when she was in her teens to the rare occasions when she accompanied school friends when she was waiting to be picked up by some youth. She felt that history was repeating herself , being the awkward shy one and, this time, her lack of experience in these matters made her feel all fingers and thumbs. A part of her was wondering about returning to the security of the table where Helen and Nikki sat, who could feel their friend's insecurities run through their skins.

"You want me to dance with you?" Jo mouthed over the loud music as a laughing young lovely with friendly compassion in her tones and in her heart gestured with both hands for Jo to join in. She'd tried giving her subtle messages for a little while to this slim, good looking older woman who was clearly new to the scene and very nervous, wistfully looking at everyone else enjoying themselves but her. Finally,she thought she would see what gives, being single and unattached. Not believing her luck, Jo slipped into the rhythm of the music, tuning into the way her new friend was dancing and starting to feel good about herself. She had no problems with who she was just then- she was just having a dance with another woman whom she wanted to know better.

"I thought you'd told Jo just to have a mellow time of it, Sally-Anne," laughed Karen to the dark-haired woman whose wry grin was sufficient had heard that Jo had had a tough time of it and she blessed her luck that her first time with another woman had worked out so wonderfully.

"When do you break up for Christmas so you can be with your beloved? Surely even nurses must get some time off?" Sally joked in return.

"I've got a long shift tomorrow, Beth has some last deadlines to hit and when we get home tomorrow night, we're going to have a long delicious shower together and some really good sex together- and then have a late Christmas dinner together," Karen answered audibly licking her lips at the prospect and sneaking a peek at Jo and her new friend dancing together.

"I must admit I'm proud of this club," Sally said dreamily in a nostalgic haze. "It's not just a money making concern but it really does have the knack of bringing the ladies together. I can't believe it was less than two years ago that I first kissed Trisha on this very same dance floor."

"You're such a romantic, babes," her favourite voice in the whole wide world answered her from above and behind her. Sally leaned back in her chair as she felt her partner's hands settle lovingly on her shoulder and kiss the top of her head. The coloured lights flickered, the music continued to gently pulsate as the ladies luxuriated in the atmosphere of what was their home from home. In this safe haven, all things were possible.


	53. Chapter 53

**Scene Fifty-Three **

At last, the dawning of Christmas day announced the end of all the last minute dashing, the supermarket queues and the frantic scurrying round the shops of London town and way beyond as it finally petered out. So many people mentally drew up the drawbridge with supplies for the next week or so and the country temporarily gave way to a curious moneyless existence. The fabled "White Christmas" didn't come to pass but a curiously mellow feeling descended on them all like an invisible cloud.

When Jo Mills' two children finally came home for on the evening before Christmas day, they had been greeted by an exhausted mother who had blitzed through putting the Christmas decorations up and wrapping all the presents, said 'hi mum' in the normal way and disappeared upstairs to hang out together until it was time for the evening meal. They entered the kitchen to lurk around the fridge and pantry to eye up the traditional Christmas dinner only to be given unexpected news.

"I've decided that we're going out for Christmas dinner," she said in a determined voice. "I've been up to my eyeballs in work and this year, I'm having a holiday from cooking."

The two fair-haired lads looked disconsolately at each other and Mark acted as spokesman.

"But mum, it means all that dressing up for a smarty restaurant. You know how fussy you are about that sort of thing,"Mark whined. Jo was ready for that one.

"This year will be different. I don't mind if you wear jeans and T-shirt or anything with in limits so long as we don't get chucked out. We're not on display and I'm going to loosen up. It's the Christmas cheer that matters."

Mark and Tom exchanged glances, their mother looked as if she meant it. Mark made a counter offer.

"OK mum, I suppose we'll live with that. So long as we're back for 'The Great Escape" and we don't hang round waiting for you to talk to friends you bump into," he said suspiciously.

"Give me your preferences for 'must see' television on the TV Times," Jo said crisply being one step ahead of her sons,"and I'll work out a time around that for us to get served."

The two lads agreed. It seemed too good to be true but Tom had one thing he wanted to mention.

"I wanted to ask you how come you've never been in during all last term. Tom and I have tried to phone up for a chat a number of times."

"Since both of you have temporarily flown the coop until you both showed up, I've done the same and got a life of my own." Jo said straight-faced. "Two can play your game." There was no answer to that one.

During afternoon TV when Mark and Tom were engrossed in watching "The Great Escape," Jo's mobile bleeped and she took the call in the kitchen. It was Nikki. Jo smiled to herself at Nikki's audible curiosity about her mystery friend and she replied enthusiastically.

"You're a dark horse, Jo Mills. I didn't think you'd get out there on the dance floor and snap up Jane Lancaster in short order."

"Hardly that," Jo laughed."We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and had a great time talking when she drove me back to my house. I did give her a goodnight kiss and I'm seeing her the day after Boxing Day. She's staying at her parents over Christmas. I don't know how it's happened but it's blown the nonsense with Mel Bridges right out of the water."

"Oh and what sort of kiss did you give her?" Nikki asked slyly.

"A French one of course,"Jo said with calm insouciance. "God, she's really good looking. I can't thank you enough for everything you and Helen did for me. Oh, I nearly forgot. Can I pick up my overnight stuff from your flat after Christmas?"

"When you meet your date or whenever suits,"retorted Nikki cheekily.

Jo signed off and returned as a dutiful mother to watch the film with her children.

The other side of the phone, Helen laughed appreciatively at the news she gleaned from Nikki's side of the conversation. They knew the woman pretty well.

Behind them, Jo's overnight case was stowed in the one corner that wasn't occupied by a resplendent Christmas tree, artificial green branches glinting against the flashing white lights and coloured baubles. A pile of scrunched up Christmas paper lay on the ground and Christmas cards lined the mantelpiece. What meant most were the home-made sincere sentiments inscribed and cards from those who they'd been too busy to keep the proper contact they wanted.

"Tony Foster," sighed Nikki with a touch of regret as she thought about her mate from her first job she'd done after leaving prison. They'd stuck together in bad times when they'd had a rough ride at work and he'd been a vital witness at Karen's trial. "he's married now. Good on him. I forget to send him a card."

"Why not send a belated Christmas card? Better late than never," suggested Helen as she reached for another whisky flavoured liqueur chocolate. She'd been discreetly helping herself from the box and hoped that Nikki didn't notice.

"You greedy guts. You can't put that down on pregnancy food fads," accused Nikki before her thoughts flitted from one topic to another. "Just how do you get pissed on these chocolates. I will write to him, one of my growing number of male friends."

Helen threw a cushion at Nikki's teasing. They were lying in the living room, having eaten their Christmas dinner and lazily resolving to leave the clearing up till later.

"Do you realise that this will be our last lazy Christmas. A year's time, we'll be surrounded by dirty nappies and our offspring demanding our attention. You don't have any regrets, sweetheart," mused Helen with raised eyebrows.

"Absolutely none at all," Nikki said in definite tones as she kissed her lover and lay down beside her in the half-light while Tori Amos's soft dulcet tones wove their way romantically around their happy home.

Many miles away, Nikki's parents came round to that time of year when they fulfilled their filial obligations. It had been a long established family tradition that their son John, daughter in law Jill and their two sons Edward and George came over on Christmas day to enjoy the traditional Christmas dinner at the dining table, not forgetting the Queen's Speech. Somehow, a chilly formality settled on the house and everyone stood around, making polite conversation. Even the children were more subdued than the elderly couple remembered children behaving. The presents were opened with a great deal of ceremony and general chatter from Jill as to which shops in Oxford Street she'd bought them. Nikki's parents heard the prattle with time honoured politeness though Mr Wade focussed his attention on the reprint of a stirring scene from the Battle of Trafalgar hanging over the fireplace. It came from his own parent's house and as a small boy, he'd studied every nuance with rapture. By contrast a light-hearted stimulating atmosphere accompanied Nikki and Helen when they came to visit. He couldn't wait to verbally spar with his intelligent, quick-witted daughter who brought a breath of fresh air into the house while Helen's presence especially induced a comfortable soothing atmosphere which his wife loved. There was something so resolutely normal about them both yet he felt that he'd lived very intensely in the short time they were there.

"My five year bonds are coming up for renewal, father," John was saying in slow deliberate tones. "I must confess I'm torn between reinvesting them as they are with accrued interest or to find some high yield shares to invest them. My best friend keeps urging me to take a chance, live dangerously."

"You must decide as you see fit, John. You'll have far more contacts than I have, a retired naval captain,"Mr Wade said, his social self operating independently from his real feelings.

"A refill of sherry perhaps,"Mrs Wade intervened brightly to her husband's relief.

"I had forgotten," Mr Wade said a little abruptly. "I really ought to phone Nicola up and wish her a happy Christmas. I'll pass the phone over if you want to speak to her."

Deliberately ignoring John's scowl of jealousy, Mr Wade moved rapidly over to the side table where the phone was placed. Bit by bit, he had become increasingly irked by his son's attitude which reminded him of a spoiled only child and he increasingly questioned his long standing policy of fair balance which felt increasingly hard to maintain. To his intense pleasure, his daughter's familiar tones answered the phone instead of their pre-recorded message.

"Hi dad. It's great to hear from you. I'm the only one conscious here as Helen's fallen asleep from too much Christmas dinner and too much booze,"Nikki's voice chirped away just when he most needed it.

"Are you sure that won't harm the baby or am I completely wrong?"Mr Wade asked slightly anxiously. Nikki spotted the parental concern a mile away and smiled warmly.

"Relax, dad, it's only smoking that Helen has to knock off. I'm now down to three cigarettes a day, smoking out in the garden complete with woolly hat, scarf and umbrella thanks to Helen. I'll have kicked the habit come the birth or I think I will."

"I heard that. I'll hold you to it," a very muffled voice sounded in Nikki's ear. The taller woman rolled her eyes skywards at being 'outed' making a verbal promise that she'd kept to herself, especially as Helen recovered enough to laugh loudly at her partner's mortification.

"What's it like your end, dad?" she replied, suspecting the worst.

"As you might expect. Your brother and his family are here," Mr Wade said drily before switching to a more cheerful topic of conversation. "Look here, you and Helen must come down over the Christmas break. We can put you up in your old bedroom if travelling is difficult. If nothing else, you've got further to travel than John."

"As bad as that?" Nikki asked, her voice laden with the sympathy she'd offer to any of her friends and her parents were already in that league.

"Something like that," Mr Wade said cryptically, feeling her son's disapproval and Jill's empty prattle. Nikki was deeply moved by the way her parents obviously wanted them to come to the rescue and regretted that they weren't with them.

"Give us a date and we won't fail you,"she assured her father, all the strength of Wade family virtues suffused into her tones. It was as if twenty years of separation from her parents had not been so much been forgotten but had never existed.

"There speaks our favourite daughter-and Helen too,"Mr Wade spoke, as proud as punch and glaring daggers at that no good son of his. His wife looked on approvingly. Right then, the opening notes of the Sound of Music commenced on a TV that was temporarily not his as their traditional politeness was to let guests choose which programme to watch. Thus it was that Jill had commandeered the remote control just when The Cruel Sea, his favourite war film, was on the other channel and just waiting to be watched.

The streets of London were patrolled by a vigilant police force who were enforcing the equally traditional crack down on drunk drivers. Ros and Jenny's early morning shift was due to end at lunchtime to be replaced by the other shift and they'd done their bit. They had mixed attitudes to this part of their job. Partly they were contemptuous of idiots who didn't know better in ignoring all the warnings as they picked off foolish drunks who hadn't got the sense to be subtle about it, especially this time of day. They had also seen the darker consequences of such driving as innocent pedestrians and law abiding drivers were the victims of such stupidity. As Ros drove past Larkhall Prison, she clocked a motorist a few cars ahead of them who was clearly under the influences as he weaved in and out of the two lanes.

"We've another customer to read the riot act to," Ros pointed out to her partner."You'd better dig out another breathalyser to add to the pile."

Jenny activated the flashing light and siren while Ros powered her car in a short, sharp arcing curve to jump ahead and cut across the line of progress of the offending vehicle. Sure enough, the driver got the hint and, armed with the majesty of the law, she strolled over to where the driver who had wound down the window and glared at her.

"Have you been drinking?"Ros asked politely enough.

I beg your pardon,"the man answered haughtily. It was a fatal mistake as he had rubbed her up the wrong way immediately.

"Can you tell me what you've had to drink in the last twenty-four hours. I have reason to believe you are driving with alcohol in excess of the prescribed amount," Ros demanded sternly, her police hat wearing her emblem of authority. She took in the smartly dressed man whose white shirt and tie and whose manner made her think immediately of the archetypal bowler-hatted civil servant.

"Look here, I might have had a bit to drink but I know I'm under the limit. I have important business to finalise so I demand that you move your car out of my way."

"Not until you agree to take a breathalyser test," Ros retorted, firmly standing her ground. It's an offence to refuse to take a breathalyser test when asked to do so.

"Give it to me and let's have done with it," the man replied grumpily, trying to sound as if the matter was of no consequence. In reality, he was desperately rerunning the impulse he'd suddenly surrendered to of suddenly downing a couple of whiskies in the pub round the corner after a night of steady drinking. For the first time, he is afraid of what a lowly minor official might do to him. He buries his head in his hands.

An hour after the police work has been done and the man has been processed after sitting endlessly on the hard, unforgiving police benches, Ros and Jenny couldn't help feeling scornful at these idiots who deserved more to be charged for being stupid than anything else. She'd raised her eyebrows at the glowering man who insisted at being called Sir, as if he deserved special treatment. They dodged past DI Sullivan who wasn't offering a Happy Christmas and smiled hastily at DI Martin who indulgently waved them off to the sort of destination that she would share with DCI Taylor.

"Bloody hell, thank God we're done at last," Jenny sighed thankfully as they got into their squad car. Exchanging a mischievous glance at her partner, Jenny activated the siren and flashing lights while Ros gunned the accelerator. Wailing down the streets, they finally pulled up at their flat which they stumbled into.

"Bedtime for us for a long long while until we order a takeaway meal and crack open the booze," Ros sighed as she took her partner's cap off and started unbuttoning her jacket. She was desperate for them to look and feel less uniform. The last few week's intensive shifts before Christmas meant that they had done little more than collapse into bed, totally knackered. Both women suddenly realised how they lusted after each other now that the tight restraints of their job were shaken free.

"We know we work insane hours so we shouldn't spend hours slaving over a red hot cooker," Jenny agreed, planting a series of fierce kisses on her lover's neck and face. They left a trail of police issue clothing behind them as they headed for their bed before glorying in the delicious feel of unrestrained pleasures. They both felt they deserved it.


	54. Chapter 54

**Scene Fifty-Four**

Christmas was a comparatively low-key affair for a professional couple like Peter and Claire Walker who preferred to treat it that way. They weren't killjoy in their outlook but they saw it as a time to mellow out by themselves with good food and drink and use the rest of the Christmas break to visit their respective families. This year, they had got to know Paul Williams at the Howard League AGM. Peter had talked to him on the run up to Christmas and had found out that he was at a loose end and disconnected however acute his observations were on the commercialisation of Christmas.

Paul took a taxi so that he could drink comfortably and safely and, while he chatted companionably to the driver, he became aware of a two tone wailing sound from behind him and the expected flashing blue lights. Instantly the Asian taxi driver pulled his vehicle over to the side out of fear of authority and because his car was his livelihood. As the car flashed past, Paul thought he saw two female policewomen talking in an animated fashion and concluded that they had a lot to discuss about the criminal they were chasing. He was thankful that it wasn't him that he was after and instructed the driver on where in the street was best to stop.

"Hi Paul," Claire greeted him in her friendliest fashion as he had come at a time when she'd put the tray of stuffing into the oven, fitting in the cramped space around the foil wrapped turkey, the roast potatoes starting to turn crisp and brown, the sausages sitting side by side and outside the oven, the carrots and brussel sprouts all peeled and suitably sliced. She kept half an eye on her watch but insisted on joining Peter in greeting their guest. "What do you want to drink?"

"A whiskey and coke," Paul replied with heartfelt joy. "Thank God it's safe now to drink what with the police on the beat."

"Take a seat in the front room and I'll fetch the drinks," Peter offered with that intangible sense of working round his partner, something Paul picked up upon. He gestured the man into the front room in which stood the obligatory Christmas tree. It was a quietly decorated room and there were no flashy garishly coloured garlands but artistically arranged likes of twinkling white lights set against subdued shades. It had a curiously restful feel and the unwrapped presents were set neatly on the sideboard. It epitomized how quietly the couple went on with their lives.

"So even crusading fighters for prison justice have to take time off from their labours," Claire asked Paul wittily. This was part of their light hearted banter which had developed after a hearty Christmas dinner and cracking open another bottle of wine.

"You know Helen of old or so I hear. You know how the psychology works,"Paul replied with that sense of authoritative knowledge behind him. Intimate talks with Nikki had not been in vain as Helen was a frequent topic of their conversations.

"Helen is one of the hardest working women I've ever known but she does like to party. You must know that Nikki suits her down to the ground. Between them, they'll be able to handle any remaining knocks that life throws at them."

"Having children might not be an unmixed blessing. My problem is that I haven't the desire to carry on the family name etc. There is a choice in not having children," Peter said, a touch defensively to Paul's sharp ear. There was no need to feel that way, he reasoned and thirties people were all under the same unconscious pressures, whether self induced or not, to conform to type.

"Helen and Nikki's friends at Chix would say the same no doubt from what Nikki says of them. It's a matter of life's choices and talking about choices, that child of theirs is going to have one hell of an upbringing," Paul replied diplomatically.

"I propose a toast," Claire intervened, popping her head round the corner from the kitchen she'd been tending. "To Nikki and Helen's baby. Long life and happiness to them all."

"Long life and happiness," the three of then intones with heartfelt wishes amongst the comfortable, hard earned surroundings.

**L**arkhall Prison at Christmas was a curious, disembodied state of mind. Nothing really changed from month to month except that, in wintertime, it was dark outside when the obligatory morning call came around when clanking sounds unlocked the prison cells. It was also likelier to be wet and windy outside during afternoon association and it didn't matter when the nights drew in as they were all inside by then. The only focus on the world, if you could call it that, was via the colour TV which reminded inmates of the Christmas shopping they could otherwise have been doing. What churned up peculiar emotions in the inmates was whenever the particular soap opera,"Eastenders" which was supposed to describe their lives and depicting the good times they could have been having down at the Queen Vic complete with booze and Christmas decorations- especially for genuine Eastenders like the Julies.

"Wasn't like that when we was on the outside,"Julie Saunders, hazily recalling distant memories. God, they'd spent a lifetime here, now they recalled

"Andy always came around with some hard luck story about how the boat hadn't come in this year, same as every year so I had to do all the Christmas shopping, cook the dinner and pay for it with me lying on my back with some punter up me," Julie Johnson disconsolately replying. Through the haze of distant memories, her children were still little and innocent even though her Rhiannon had done time for shoplifting because the pimp she worked for had got her onto smack. She still wondered how her kids were getting on in the big wide world.

"There's a new inmate on remand, name of Mel Bridges . She's been done for smuggling drugs bigtime or so she says. Reckon she's a tough bitch by the look of her,"sneered Natalie Buxton, the very evil woman whom a perverse fate had granted her Olivia Newton-John style of innocent good looks.

"Well, that's better than being a nonce," Julie Saunders retorted.

"I am not a nonce. I was fitted up. Still, this drugs pusher probably supplied your Rhiannon her first taste of smack,"Natalie Buxton fired back with an evil leer on her face while Julie Saunders restrained her friend from thumping Buxton. She wouldn't have a chance against her karate trained opponent.

It was at that moment that Mel Bridges emerged onto the wing. She felt nowhere near as tough inside as her leather jacket implied. She was feeling distinctly jittery and her main fear was that she'd meet women who were somehow connected to the drugs trade. She also knew that this prison was connected with Jo Mills through the trials she'd heard that Jo had represented. Most of all, she wanted that connection with Jo Mills kept a tight secret for as long as was possible.

She'd gone through a shattering invasion of her human dignity when she'd first had her personal possessions taken away from her, of being strip searched by some cold-eyed prison officer hiding disdainfully behind her prison uniform and sleeping in some really crummy communal cell. It reminded her of some rough dives she'd slept in during her days as a touring musician but the compensation for that was the high of performing on stage, being paid for her work and sleeping with some young lovely after the show. The aggressive women with whom she shared the cell radiated tension and fear in equal measures. When she came onto the wing, she could see the women eyeing her up as the new kid on the block, the sparsely decorated Christmas tree, the dingy drab yellow paintwork that hemmed her in and, as if to mock her, the glass ceiling in the arched roof as if to mock her predicament.

In their comfortable house, Maureen and Joy were padding about in their nighties, having indulged themselves in some much overdue lovemaking and slept in late, partly because of the ceaseless grind of months of hard work and responsibility. They'd learnt that the only way to save their sanity was to switch off the 'work' switch the moment they knocked off for their holidays. To start ruminating on reorganizations they might initiate, on investigations they were running was a sure recipe for madness. They reverted to the natural women that they were in their private lives.

"I swear to God, Joy why didn't we pay more attention to cookery classes when we were at school?"

"Because you'd already got a thing for uniforms and Cagney and Lacey were more fun to watch on TV than Fanny Craddock?" supposed Maureen very accurately as she pored over a rather neglected, rarely thumbed through cookery book.

"Women were supposed to be good at multitasking or so the magazines tell me but why the hell doesn't someone write a recipe book for making bog standard Christmas dinners?" Joy said with total exasperation as she dropped the last slightly inelegantly peeled potato into the saucepan which had patiently awaited it.

"You say the same thing every year, darling," the slightly more patient woman explained as she poured the precisely measured amount of hot water into the bowl that contained stuffing mix."You know we finally cobble together the Christmas dinner and forget all about how to make it for next year."

"I've had enough," snapped Joy at herself."Give me a pen and writing pad and I'll do it."

"Here it is darling," Maureen said as she placed the items on the precariously small area and slid her arm around her lover. She knew everything would come out right in the end and they'd be wound round each other on the sofa, lovingly tight and watching anything but police crime dramas.

"It's so lovely to see you," Trisha exclaimed delightedly as Karen and Beth poled round at Trisha and Sally Anne's."Sally's in the kitchen as she loves cooking Christmas dinner."

"I am really the worst cook in existence. Being a journalist, I'm used to calling in on eating places around London. You name me anywhere and I'll pull it up- at least if my electronic friend is working properly,"Beth rattled away, kissing Trisha effusively on her cheek

"Your what? I thought such friends are for when you're horny and on your own," joked Trisha deliberately taking it the wrong way. "You've got Karen for that."

"Yes well, there is that of course," Beth said with a straight face ,"but I mean my mobile where I store all my important information. That has to be my walking office when I'm on the move."

"And I'm really grateful for your hospitality if for no other reason to escape my scrounging son Ross who will no doubt be knocking on our front door as we speak,"Karen said tartly. "He won't have figured out the names and addresses of our female friends. He's been very wary since he came round when Kristine was round and she led the three of us to shred his character, starting with his laziness and moral bullshit. She was his lecturer at uni and knows him inside out."

"You think he's turning over a new leaf?" Trisha enquired, a layer of cynicism within her being unwilling to trust anyone who stepped over the line. She took this stance with ease, having long since squared with Nikki the way she'd apparently abandoned her to her fate in Larkhall.

"We'll see how he shapes up- after Christmas. He has a high bar to jump over and he's going to have to keep jumping before he gets an iota of trust from either me or Beth. She matters whether he likes it or not," Karen pronounced grimly.

"I'll be through in a minute," called out a clear voice in the kitchen from Sally-Anne who loved the whole paraphernalia of Christmas Day.

"Hey thanks Trisha, you know what my poison is," called out Karen gaily as a glass of whisky and tonic was placed into her hands. Now that she only drank in any quantity when she went out, preferring a glass of wine in the comfort of her own home, the spirits that she used to drink to secure temporary oblivion in the face of her troubles was not her enemy anymore. She sipped the spirits but it was the company around her that warmed her up the most.


	55. Chapter 55

**Scene Fifty Five **

Charlie Deed's concerns as a politically minded student, were curiously inward looking on a personal level however much her political concerns were all-embracing. She always felt when she returned to the parental home that she'd been beamed down from outer space but the planet earth she'd returned bore no resemblance to the version she'd left a few months ago. As she was in her final year at uni, her order of priorities was buckling down to her studies, keeping up her socialising when she could as a good second preference while keeping up with news on the home front came a very bad third. She had just come down for the Christmas break and was in for several severe shocks which John thought judicious to drop on her during Christmas day when they were on their own.

"I expect George and Alice will be round on Boxing Day, same as last year- they are still together, aren't they?" Charlie asked distractedly, occupying the armchair from which she was insisting on watching The Sound of Music. Like her mother, she was quite capable of having it both ways and didn't see the need to justify herself.

"You're quite right. They are a very devoted couple,"John replied promptly.

"So how come you don't bring round female company now George is relaxed about who you take up with? I'm a big girl now, you know,"Charlie said in her attempt at mature sophistication, spoiling the effect with the box of Cadbury's Roses chocolates she kept dipping into.

"Who would you have in mind?" John ventured cautiously.

"That's up to you. Jo for instance. The two of you could get on really well if you didn't misbehave yourself. You know what you're like," Charlie said, turning her head round to face him,a big grin on her face. She never sensed what was about to befall her.

"As a matter of fact, I've got a job for you. Can you hold the fort while I fetch Kristine Thorne? She's a college lecturer whom I've got to know recently and I've invited her over for the Boxing Day buffet."

"Can't she get a taxi? They do run you know," Charlie said, reservations mounting in her about her capacity to deal with the combination of her mother, her partner and grandfather without her father's solid sense of authority and diplomacy at the back of her.

"She can but everyone else has the same idea. Besides, she's blind and has a guide dog to bring over," John said in deliberately matter of fact tones.

"So no Jo Mills," Charlie said at last after shock had made her brain momentarily malfunctioned. Her father's choice of female company was a strange one to her.

"I'm afraid Jo and I aren't on the best of terms as she has terminated our relationship,"John said at a slow and deliberate pace.

"That's nothing new," scoffed Charlie, latching onto what she thought was familiar territory. "You always end up getting back together eventually. It's like some old fashioned dance routine."

John counted to five, cast his eyes skyward and prepared to drop the big one. There was no alternative but to lay out the facts in as calm and deliberate fashion as possible with more firmness in direction than in directing juries in ten trials put together.

"Not this time Charlie. She's had the bad fortune in being seduced by another woman with potentially serious consequences to herself. I cannot go into it as the whole thing's sub judice but I can assure you that while I continue to be a good friend to her, she has quite enough to cope with and she's at home with her children. One thing I must impress on you is not to talk about her in front of company. George is up to speed on the situation and that is all you need to know right now."

Charlie's blue eyes stood out as if they were on stalks and her mouth hung open but she made no sound. The room was dead still and finally, John moved over to the drinks cabinet and poured out a stiff measure of vodka and a dash of lemonade. Wordlessly, he handed to to Charlie who downed it with one gulp. It took her a long time for her to start speaking again and The Sound of Music felt comfortably normal and conventional.

Joseph shook his head when George blithely told him of the arrangements with a degree of insouciant disregard for danger that Alice admired but knew she could never emulate. Last time, he'd been deputized to drop it on John that George would bring round her girlfriend round to John's on Boxing day while Charlie had dropped in from outer space and had found family relationships between her parents disturbingly cordial. Her views on Alice's presence had tested her modernity to the limit. This time, George had provided a new twist on the situation in stating that John would nip out and bring round some new female friend but it wasn't going to be Jo as he'd expected. George had worked overtime with her silver tongue in persuading him much against his wishes that Ms Kristine Thorne was a frightfully intelligent woman, brilliant company and, guess what, she's blind and she'd be bringing her guide dog as well.

"Blind?" sputtered Joseph in perfect bewilderment. "Where does he pick up these women from? Will it be safe for her to come round? I mean, I thought houses had to be specially adapted. How on earth is she going to eat Christmas dinner? Is John going to spoon-feed her?"

"Just relax, daddy," George spoke in amused tones knowing how absurdly nineteenth century he was. "John has offered to accept all responsibility for her. I guarantee that, having met the woman, everything's going to be all right. By any standards, she's really capable. Trust me."

George got rapidly into full persuasion mode of talking, explaining just what Kristine could do but got the feeling it wasn't properly sinking in. She resorted to keeping it short and simple, talking in nannyish tones right at the end.

"Whatever you do daddy, don't put your foot in it with some ill judged remark like that. If you do insult her, I'll never forgive you and besides, you'll be living very dangerously."

Joseph put down the phone and spent the evening muttering into his best malted whisky. Somehow, it didn't taste right. He finally thought over what George was saying and opted to reserve judgement. Whatever his daughter was, she wasn't a fool.

Christmas day arrangements started, Charlie being persuaded to get out of bed, presentably dressed before the guests arrived, the first of whom was Granddad who was irritatingly silent on recent startling developments.

"Happy Christmas, George. I'm glad as usual to see my favourite daughter and Alice, it's good to see you once again," Joseph rumbled in his politest tones. George was dressed in one of her stunning flowing dresses, her hair elegantly pinned up while Alice wore her favourite black trousers and while lacy top which set off her beauty to perfection. Already Joseph was purring like a cat that had been tickled under his ear with so much female beauty around him. At the back of his mind, he was curious to see what to make of this Ms Kristine Thorne before finally committing himself to an enjoyable Christmas.

Finally, the sound of John's car could be picked out by several pairs of attentive ears and finally, John's voice intermingled with a clear attractive sounding female voice together with two barking dogs clearly enjoying their conversation. What took Joseph and Charlie aback was that, instead of the stereotypical blonde, a well built woman, with shortish auburn hair, a natural sense of presence, wearing a long but slightly floaty black skirt with cream spots, and a long tunic-style black top that is low enough to draw attention to her prominent breasts. In her left hand, she held a harness that was attached to a lively, frolicsome Labrador dog around whom Mimi bounded excitedly.

George being the most forward socialite, made all the introductions in her usual grand style. Kristine took to the crusty old gentleman but she had reservations about the undertone in Charlie Deed's voice, concluding that her perceived problem was that she was supplanting Jo Mills. It made her think of her own family situation as her mother had died when she was eleven and her father had remarried. However, she had not got on with her father ever since, and the less they saw of each other, the better they can tolerate each other. Her father has never been remotely proud of any of her achievements while John was clearly a million times different in this respect. She concluded that Charlie's problems were way different from her own.

"I take it, you don't get a chance to get out very often," Charlie said in a conversation with her , eager to demonstrate her understanding of Kristine's unfortunate affliction and the difficult situation in which that life's accident had left her. "It must be nice to see new surroundings once in a while."

The audible hush that fell on the room had all the tension of five seconds before the bomb went off.. George, Alice and John had experienced their friend's forceful presence at the Howard League AGM, both in discussions and in socializing. Joseph had taken Kristine's measure, being rapidly impressed with her style. Finally, Kristine expressed her views with more than usually precise articulation

党I know you are trying to be kind, Charlie but I've found that not being sighted is not quite the disadvantage that you might think. I teach Education Studies at the University of London and I'm pursuing a Ph.D. in a combined doctorate of Education and Criminology. I obtained a grade 8 in flute and singing at the age of eighteen. I went skiing three times whilst at a boarding school for blind and partially sighted pupils. I can go anywhere, do anything. I got a GCSE in catering and I'm told I'm a really good cook except I do wish that manufacturers would put labels on tins in Braille so I can tell what it is that I'm opening."

Everyone burst out in appreciative laughter at the droll finale to Kristine's little exposition which had the right element of charm about it. Charlie's eyes opened wide at this stream of mind boggling revelations but didn't think to doubt the other woman her word. It broke the ice marvellously and was the signal for all of them to circulate round the buffet table and engage in free-flowing conversations.

"Sit Jules," Kristine commanded as he figured out who he thought the most vulnerable to his appealing doggy eyes and cute personality. Immediately, he trotted over to the corner , knowing that his mistress would provide for him. He knew that he was deprived of any chance of tasty droppings.

"I should have tried that when we were together John," George said mischievously at John while Alice laughed. She felt relaxed and at home in this atmosphere of lively conversation that sparkled like the chilled Champagne on offer.

"You are most impressively talented. You have come very far very quickly," rumbled Joseph, admiring the woman's enterprise without thinking in the least to make any adjustments. Kristine picked up on this straightaway.

"You might think me contrary but looking back on my life I almost wish I'd done law at university and become a barrister instead. I didn't discover my almost obsessive interest in the law until I began researching prisons and prison education for my MA. Believe it or not, I actually found the civil procedure rules fascinating."

"That's really marvellous to hear," Joseph said enthusiastically while George grinned in the background. "My daughter George has made a highly successful and lucrative career in that field, not to mention her natural ability to drive hard bargains."

"Daddy, I learnt that at a very early age as you should know," retorted George, grinning. John certainly wondered to himself about **t**he untapped potential in Kristine to be a barrister, having seen her ability to argue and comparing it to George's.

The group split up into a variety of interesting conversations based on a friendly interchange. It induced a stereo sense of tuning into one line of conversation with another fitting randomly in the background. **A**lice found herself closeted with Charlie Deed who had studied her on a number of occasions, remarking how human and pleasant her mother could now be as she'd drastically changed her circle of acquaintances.

"You and mum seem to be getting on like a house on fire these days. I'm grateful for that as it means that when I hook up with her, she is really good company these days."

"Don't suppose that lesbian relationships are necessarily plain sailing, Charlie,"Alice quietly observed.

"I'm only judging on from what I've seen around me compared with my own unorthodox family," Charlie said, faintly blushing. "My last relationship was with my tutor at university. He's married and it ended up too much friction for me to deal with."

"Relationships need to be worked on, Charlie. Lesbians have their exes and they can be no better than in the case of straight couples. From my observations, I've seen friends of mine haunted by them when they should have left well enough alone."

Charlie readily absorbed this mature piece of observation and George smiled thankfully to herself at her partner's sense of discretion. There was a place for total candour in life but this was not one of them but this painfully won wisdom might help Charlie on her own path through life. George wasn't overfond of philosophising on life as she felt that Charlie had quite enough of a headstrong nature. This was coupled with her being a heart breaker, just like her mother as Daddy had said on more than one occasion.

"So what's this I hear about Jo Mills?" Joseph inquired in a discreet private moment of John while Kristine was engrossed in an animated conversation with George. "I understand that she came close to being in a real pickle over this disreputable woman she picked up with. For once you are an entirely innocent party in the proceedings."

John laughed heartily at Joseph's observation and it harked back to history which might almost be wreathed around by the mists of nostalgia, as if a book had been opened up of some notorious Regency character in an eighteenth century novel. Distance was being lent to this period in John's life by the way he was trying to do the right thing in his private life as much in his public life.

党The road to hell is paved with good intentions," said John sympathetically of Jo. "She meant well and Jo and I have a lot of tangled history behind us anyway." Alice shuddered inside. If she hadn't pulled away from Becky, the same could have happened to her.

党You and George have come right- in your unorthodox way and so have our worthy friends Nikki Wade and Helen Stewart as they set off in life's journey that you, I and George have travelled,"Joseph said affectionately, warmed inside by a mellow feeling of nostalgia and malt whisky. They looked around at the comfortable feeling home, decorations glinting off the Christmas tree in the corner and Christmas cards lining the mantelpiece from many dear friends. The sharp-eared George picked up on this snatch of conversation and jumped in on it.

党I propose a toast, everyone," she said in her clear, carrying way,"Charge your glasses. To Nikki and Helen and their family. Good health, fortune and happiness."

These words caught the free-floating mood and everyone charged their glasses while the fine weather outside cast beams of slanting sunshine on the buffet food and the assembled company gathered around

"To Nikki, Helen and their family," the voices chorussed in various tones and harmonies, promising friendship across the miles that separated them only by distance.


End file.
